Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus
by Deco
Summary: Luke and Mara's friends decide to try matchmaking...with predictably disastrous results
1. Default Chapter

Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus (And Matchmakers Are From Hell):

  
  
  
  


Chapter One: The Ground is Laid (in More Ways Than One)

  
  
  
  


"I swear," Mirax said, "It makes me tired just to watch them. I want to slap them both upside the head."

  
  


"I know just what you mean," Iella said, nodding. Wedge, who was sitting beside her, rolled his eyes.

  
  


"What is this, a sabacc game, or gossip central?" Corran said, throwing down his cards in disgust.

  
  


"We're talking about Luke and Mara." Mirax said, coldly.

  
  


"I know who you're talking about! I just object to you talking about them when we're supposed to be playing sabacc!"

  
  


Mirax ignored him. "Last time I saw them, it was the same old thing," she said to Iella. "They're talking, getting along fine, Luke was even flirting a bit. Just when I think everything's going good and he's going to make a definite pass, Mara gets out her claws and rakes them across his ego. So, of course, he immediately backs off. And, get this, she gets *angry* at him for that! I mean, what in the galaxy does she expect?"

  
  


Iella said, absently dealing a card, "I've seen this exact same scenario more times than I care to mention."

  
  


"Maybe, just maybe, she's not interested! Did *that* ever occur to you?" Corran said, exasperated.

  
  


"She's interested all right," Mirax said. "When they're together in one room, you can cut the sexual tension with a lightsaber, if you'll excuse the pun. Last time I thought the room was going to implode. Or the curtains were going to start to smoulder."

  
  


Iella laughed. "Do you think they're really in love? Or just madly hormonal?"

  
  


"Even if it's just the second, something should be done about it. It would do them both a world of good to ease those old hormones a bit. I can't understand why they don't get on with it."

  
  


"Maybe the damn audience is inhibiting them," Corran snapped.

  
  


Mirax cast him A Look, at which he subsided. "I think they need a little help," she said.

  
  


"Mirax," said Corran, "I absolutely forbid you to get involved."

  
  


"Did somebody say something?" Mirax asked mildly. "I must've gone deaf all of a sudden."

  
  


"I said," Corran repeated, "I don't want you to get involved."

  
  


Mirax gave him a considering look. "What do you know--my deafness has just got worse."

  
  


"Surprise, surprise," Iella said. "So what do you suggest?"

  
  


"I'm thinking about it," Mirax said.

  
  


"It's obvious that Luke needs to get tougher with her," Corran said.

  
  


"Tougher!" Mirax exclaimed. "Corran, you're an idiot! Can't you see she's scared as it is?" 

  
  


"Scared!" Corran said. "She'd look a rancor in the eye and never blink!" 

  
  


Mirax threw down her cards. "I give up," she said to Iella. "Want to help me in the kitchen a minute? We'll make some caf." She ignored Corran's throwing of his sabacc cards into the air.

  
  


Staring at their retreating backs, Corran called out, "Mirax, don't make any caf for us. Wedge and I are going out for a beer." He quickly steered Wedge out of the apartment before Mirax could reply.

  
  


Mirax shook her head. "Men!" she exclaimed. "They can't see what's going on in front of their eyes."

  
  


"And when they can, they don't know what to do about it," Iella said.

  
  


"Too true," Mirax said.

  
  


"So what do you think is the problem with Luke and Mara?" Iella asked.

  
  


Mirax sighed. "I'm not sure, but I think with a little encouragement, Luke would be fine. The problem is, Mara won't give him any. In fact, as soon as he gets anywhere close, she retreats. And in spite of what Corran says, it isn't because she isn't interested."

  
  


Iella nodded. "She's scared about something."

  
  


"Well, that's my guess. I like her, and she's friendly enough to me, but I don't try to talk about anything intimate with her. She clams up immediately. What about you?"

  
  


"Same here."

Mirax sighed. "When you consider her upbringing, no family life, and little human contact except for the most evil man in the galaxy-well, who knows what's biting her?"

  
  


"You know," Iella said. "I once tried to work up a background check to figure her out. But I came up empty. There's nothing."

  
  


"Oh, c'mon, Iella!" Mirax credit. "We're *women.* We don't need information! We can go on instinct and be closer to the truth than Corran and company would get in years."

  
  


Iella smiled. "And do you include your father in the 'company'?"

  
  


"You got a rule," Mirax said ruefully, "And my father is the exception to it."

  
  


Iella smiled again. "Wedge'd say yea to that."

  
  


"Even Corran would," Mirax admitted. "They'd mean different things by it, though."

  
  


Iella was shaken by doubt. "Maybe we shouldn't interfere," she said.

  
  


Mirax was inflexible. "Not on your tintype," she snapped. "They're getting together, and that's that. And you and I are going to help. I swear."

  
  


And so the ground was laid, in an attempt to extend this happy state to two lonely Jedi-types.


	2. Chapter Two--The Dye is Cast

2nd Chapter: The Dye is Cast.

  
  


Corran might have agreed with Mirax's view of her father, if he hadn't been so busy ranting about the superiority complex of women in general and his wife in particular.

  
  


Corran said parrot-style: "Men are so stupid. Men know nothing. Men are morons. Of course, when she says men, what she means is me."

  
  


"Very probably," Wedge said, grinning, while he poured out ales for both of them at the small bar table.

  
  


"You're not going to be able to stop Mirax from interfering," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

  
  


"I know it. Boy, do I know it. I don't even necessarily disagree that something should be done. I mean, I'm really tired seeing of those two scratching around each other. It's a pain. Though, of course, it's mostly Luke's fault."

  
  


"You think you could do better, do you?" Wedge said amiably.

  
  


"Sure."

  
  


"In what way?"

  
  


"Well, it wouldn't take *me* eight years, is all I can say."

  
  


"So what would you have done differently?" Wedge asked, suppressing a grin.

  
  


"Mara needs a good kick in the butt when she starts getting out of line. Luke shouldn't back off the way he does. He should been stronger, more dominant. He should give her the word."

  
  


Wedge scratched his eyebrow. "Think that would work, do you?" he asked.

  
  


"Of course it would work. I'm gonna tell him so, too."

  
  


"Um, Corran, I'm not sure that's a good idea. He might not appreciate it."

  
  


"I can be subtle," Corran assured him owlishly.

  
  


Wedge suppressed another grin. "I'm glad you think so."

  
  


"Oh, hell," Corran said, looking up.

  
  


"What's the matter?" Wedge asked.

  
  


"Father-in-law at four o'clock," Corran muttered into his ale.

"Wedge!" Booster Terrik's ham-shaped hand clapped Wedge on the back. "How are you?" Talon Karrde could be seen lurking behind Booster. "What are you doing, hanging around with this loser?"

  
  


Corran was too drunk to ignore this. He scowled. 

  
  


"Won't you join us, Booster?" Wedge said quickly. "You, too, Karrde."

  
  


"Thanks!" Booster boomed, ignoring the sulking Corran, "Drink here regularly, do you?"

  
  


Corran cast a nasty look at Booster, and said, "We were playing sabacc with our marital units, until we had to flee for our lives."

  
  


"Why was that, Mirax come to her senses?" Booster said brightly.

  
  


Wedge intervened hastily. "Mirax and Iella were talking about Luke and Mara and they decided that they wanted to help them along. You know what I mean---matchmaking. Corran didn't think that it was a good idea."

  
  


Karrde looked at Corran sympathetically. "Good for you, Corran," he said.

  
  


Booster wasn't about to agree with Corran on anything. "Faint-hearted, are you, Karrde?"

  
  


"Faint-hearted has nothing to do with it, Booster," Karrde said. "Interfering with Mara's private life is a sure road to an instant, and very painful, death."

  
  


"You know her pretty well. Do you think she's interested in Luke?" Booster asked.

  
  


"One thing I can say," Karrde said, "You're never going to know what Mara's feelings are-always assuming she has any."

  
  


Booster snickered. "I heard that ever member of your organization, male and female, from you on down, has had a try at Mara, and she turned you all down. If she's not interested in Luke, just who *is* she interested in?"

  
  


Karrde bristled. "I don't make passes at my employees, Booster."

  
  


"Sure you don't, Karrde."

  
  


Wedge judged it a good time to intervene. "Then she wasn't interested in Lando?" he asked, certain this remark would scotch the incipient argument. 

  
  


He was right. "That was just a cover for a job I asked them to do," Karrde said.

  
  


"He wishes!" Booster snorted disdainfully.

"Mirax thinks that Mara's scared of Luke," Wedge said. "Corran, on the other hand, thinks Luke's scared of Mara. You got to admit, those are diametrically opposed views of the problem. With diametrically opposed solutions."

  
  


Booster snorted. "Neither one of them is right, either."

  
  


"Of course not!" Corran said sarcastically. "Nothing's right if the great Booster doesn't think of it first!"

  
  


Almost casually, Booster's great fist reached out and grabbed Corran's collar. He shook his son-in-law like an errant puppy for a full minute and then flung him back down on his seat. Wedge and Karrde watched with mild interest as Corran slid slowly under the table.

  
  


Booster arched an eyebrow at them. "I hate guys who can't hold their liquor, don't you?"

  
  


"Shocking," Wedge said, with a grin.

  
  


"Okay, Wedge," Booster said sharply. "Wanna bet on it? Luke 'n Mara, I mean. Let's see who's right."

  
  


"How are we going to tell who's right?" Wedge asked.

  
  


"We'll all put our theories into practice," Booster said, "And see who can get results."

  
  


Wedge looked openly skeptical. 

  
  


From under the table, Corran slurred, "Let's see who can get them over the hump--literally."

  
  


Booster gave Corran a sharp kick in the ribs, and Corran subsided.

  
  


"Crudely put," Booster said, "But to the point. We'll work in teams. Wedge, you and the undersized narc," he punctuated this by another kick to Corran's ribs, "will be one. Me and Karrde the second, and Mirax and Iella the third--- I'll tell the girls. We'll each put a hundred credits into the pot, and see who wins. Deal?"

  
  


He gave Wedge a rancor-sharp grin, and offered his hand. Wedge knew better than to refuse. "Deal," he said.

  
  


They solemnly shook hands on it. And so the dye was cast.

  
  



	3. Chapter Three--Opening Gambit

  
  


3rd Chapter: Opening Gambit 

  
  


The next day, Mirax and Iella met in Wedge's and Iella's apartment to plot their strategy. Cups of caf in hand, they discussed ways and means, and Jedi.

  
  


"So," Iella said, "how do we win the bet? Do you have any ideas?"

  
  


"Yeah," Mirax answered. "I do. The only time that I remember Mara showing any emotion was during the time Luke was engaged to Callista. She was in a snit--and I do mean a snit---as long as the engagement lasted."

  
  


"Which means?" Iella asked.

  
  


"Which means, we don't want the Jedi Master for ourselves, oh dearie me, no! And we make sure he and the whole galaxy knows it," Mirax said derisively, "However, if he gets the message and moves onto someone else, we are royally ticked off and no mistake. No wonder the poor man is confused."

  
  


Iella looked concerned. "Are you sure he's still interested, then?"

  
  


Mirax grinned. "Oh, yes, he may be confused, but he's still interested. Despite her 'I-am-definitely-not-interested-in-you-but-if-you-pay-attention-to-anybody-else-you're-toast' routine. When he comes into a room, Mara gives off enough pheramones to float an Executor-class battleship. I'm seen it happen time and again. Luke, being a mere man, immediately scuttles over to her, panting. I suspect that the Force heightens the effect, but I've never been able to prove it. And when she gets him to the drooling stage, she makes him back off. Every time-it never fails. It's damned wonder that he hasn't done something violent."

  
  


Iella grimaced. "That about sums it up. The question is: why?"

  
  


Mirax sighed. "Good question. I don't really know."

  
  


"Have you ever considered," Iella said hesitantly, "that maybe she's doing it deliberately? "

  
  


"To torture him on purpose, you mean?" Mirax said. "I have considered it, but I'm pretty sure not. Her feelings are definitely engaged, and that's the problem, if you ask me. If it was just hormonal, they've have dealt with it long before now. No, she can't seem to break the pattern they've established, and I'm certain that she's suffering over it as much as he is."

  
  


"So if they can't fix it, how are we supposed to?" Iella asked.

  
  


Mirax grinned. "Have faith, Iella. We just need to motivate her a bit more. Luke doesn't need any motivation, except being in the same room as Mara. Mara's a different story."

  
  


"What's your plan?" Iella asked.

  
  


"Well," Mirax said. "she's very territorial. She considers Luke her property, haven't you noticed? She's whizzed on his perimeters, so to speak, and nobody else had better even think about trespassing, thank you very much. Even if she does keep the poor benighted man in a permanent state of coitus interruptus. So, if we want to put this show on the road, we're going to need a trespasser."

  
  


"Not that I'm disagreeing with you or anything," said Iella, "but Callista is long gone."

  
  


"We don't need Callista specifically," Mirax said, "Anybody will do. Say twenty-five to thirty, slim and reasonably good-looking. You know anybody suitable?"

  
  


Iella took a meditative sip of her cup of caf. "There's my cousin's daughter. She's a bit younger than twenty-five, but she fits otherwise." 

  
  


"Think she would help?" Mirax asked.

  
  


"She might." Iella said. "She's an actress--or maybe I should amend that-she has ambitions in that direction. I'll tell her it's good practice."

  
  


"Great," Mirax said. "We're in business. Oh, and does she have a big bust? That'd help."

  
  


Iella laughed. "Why?"

  
  


"Because though Mara is a knock-out herself, she's just a bit small up top. If Luke showed up with a well-endowed girlfriend, Mara'll go ballistic. I absolutely guarantee you."

  
  


Iella gave her friend the once-over. "I begin to see how you defeated the Bacta Queen," she remarked. 

  
  


"Honey," said Mirax with a grin, "She never even knew what hit her."

  
  



	4. Chapter Four--The Diplomatic Defense

To those who posted reviews: Thank you for your kind words.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


4th Chapter: the Diplomatic Defense.

  
  
  
  


Wedge, in the meantime, was mixing a hangover remedy for the unfortunate Corran in the latter's apartment. 

  
  


"Exhibit Number One in the believe-it-or-not category: a Corellian who can't hold his liquor," Wedge said, measuring out the beri-beri juice.

  
  


"Shut up, Wedge," Corran hissed, pulling a pillow over his head.

  
  


"Rise and shine, sunshine," Wedge said, handing the juice over. "Drink up."

  
  


Corran hoisted himself onto his elbow, and drank the juice, grimacing as he did so. "It's not that I can't hold my liquor," he said darkly. "It's that I can't hold it when Booster shakes the shit out of me."

  
  


"So remember not to get him mad next time," Wedge said, unsympathetically.

  
  


"I make him mad by just standing there."

  
  


"And you call *Luke* a whiner!" Wedge said, shaking his head.

  
  


Corran scowled, and tried to totter to his feet.

  
  


"Hey, friend," Wedge said. "No attacking your second. We're allies, remember?"

  
  


"Allies?" Corran asked.

  
  


"The bet, you remember that?" Wedge said, grinning. "You want to beat Mirax and Iella, don't you. Just imagine them winning."

  
  


Corran imagined it, and turned pale.

  
  


"Or Booster and Karrde? Try that on for size."

  
  


Corran tried it on, and turned the proverbial whiter shade of pale. "Okay, uncle. We've got to win, or we'll have Bad or Worse triumphing over us."

  
  


"You got it," agreed Wedge.

  
  


"So what do we do?" Corran said, wincing as the light hit his eyes.

  
  


"Beats me," Wedge admitted. "How did you and Mirax get together? I mean, what attracted you to her?"

  
  


Corran thought deeply, while Wedge waited patiently for his pearls of wisdom. Finally, after a very long pause, he said, "Well, she's Corellian. And she used to bring me Corellian food."

  
  


"Is that all you can remember?" Wedge said, exasperated. 

  
  


Corran glared at him. "Well, what about you and Iella, then?"

  
  


Wedge was silenced. Finally, he said, "Okay, I'll admit it. When Iella and I were getting together, I let my hormones do the walking, the talking, and the squawking."

  
  


"Same here," Corran said. "I don't remember much else."

  
  


"Me, either."

  
  


"So why can't Luke do the same?" Corran asked, frowning.

  
  


"Be fair, Corran. Neither you nor I were trying to put the moves on a professional assassin."

  
  


"You think romancing Booster's daughter isn't just as scary?" Corran said, staring at Wedge.

  
  


Wedge grinned. "Lucky for you, Mirax was interested. Which made Booster's opinion irrelevant."

  
  


"Believe me," Corran muttered, "Booster's opinion is *never* irrelevant."

  
  


"To tell the truth, though, Luke's in a spot," Wedge said. "You ever notice that even though they're not together, Mara doesn't like him paying attention to other women? To the point of violence?"

  
  


"You're kidding me."

  
  


"No, I'm not. Remember Tycho's and Winter's anniversary party? One minute, Luke was dancing with that sexy brunette that came with Wes. The next minute, Mara lock-stepped her to the door, and threw her out bodily."

  
  


"Let me get this straight: Luke and Mara aren't married, they're not sleeping together, they're not committed, and she won't let him get any elsewhere?" Corran was horrified.

  
  


"Exactly," Wedge said. "Though, from what I hear, he's not entirely deprived. He just makes sure that any liaisons he has are short, discreet, and Mara isn't within a ten-planet radius."

  
  


"The poor guy," Corran said. "I had no idea it was this bad. He's got all the limitations of marriage, and none of the perks."

  
  


"You've got it,' Wedge said.

  
  


"Why does he put up with it?" Corran asked, puzzled.

  
  


Wedge coughed. "He's got a major yen for her, I think. If she shows any interest, even *negative* interest, he's thrilled."

  
  


"Well, we ought to help him out," Corran said virtuously. "Male solidarity, and all that. Not to mention the fact that we don't want our wives to get any ideas."

  
  


Wedge laughed. "I'll agree with that. And don't forget: we'll win the bet."

  
  


"That, too. But how?"

  
  


"Well, remember when those rumors about Mara and Lando were all over the place?" Wedge asked.

  
  


"Vaguely," Corran said.

  
  


"Luke was very jealous," Wedge said. "He doesn't like Mara paying attention to anybody else any more than she likes *him* doing it. When anybody mentioned Lando and Mara, he'd change the subject immediately, or clam up tightly. I remember how surprised I was. Usually, he never lets his feelings show like that."

  
  


"And your point is?"

  
  


"Well, we have to motivate the man, right?" Wedge asked, "There's no way we can motivate Mara. She has everything her own way as it is. So we need to work on Luke. I was thinking that maybe you're right: he needs to be more dominant. And we need to help him do it. Agreed?"

  
  


"Yeah, I guess."

  
  


"Right. So we need to make him jealous. To that end, we should find a handsome escort for Mara. About thirty or so. Somebody tall."

  
  


Corran squinted at him. "Why tall?"

  
  


"Because Luke's almost as conscious of his height as you are," Wedge said, grinning. "If Mara goes out with a guy who's tall, he'll go ballistic. I absolutely guarantee you."

  
  


"I am *not* conscious of my height!" Corran snapped.

  
  


"Sure you aren't, shorty," Wedge said, affably. "A fancy background would help, too. Luke's also really conscious of being a hick."

  
  


Corran rubbed his stubbly chin. "I might be able to recruit a suitable candidate," he said, slowly. "I know somebody: a guy named Chaz Mardan. A Corellian. He's in the diplomatic corps. Good-looking, polished. And tall, if you insist. Old friend of the family--my grandfather sponsored his career."

  
  


"Think he'd help?" Wedge asked.

  
  


"Sure, if I asked him," Corran said. "He's got a sense of humor, too. Besides, Mara's a good-looking piece, even if she *is* scary. No great strain on him, I'd say."

  
  


"Is he on Coruscant?" Wedge asked.

  
  


"Sure. He's attached to the Corellian embassy," Corran said.

  
  


Wedge smirked. "Okay, whenever you can get to your feet, go and explain to your friend why we need his help. We don't want the others to get ahead of us, do we?"

  
  


At first Wedge this thought caused Corran's sudden pallor, but it became obvious that last night's liquor was about to make its reappearance. He helped Corran to the 'fresher, and listened impatiently outside the door while Corran's stomach righted itself.

  
  


"Hurry it up, Corran!" Wedge said, "We're burning daylight!"

  
  


"Wedge," Corran said, "Just for the record: your height equals your sadism."

  
  


"Forget my sadism, shorty," Wedge said. "And remember how you'll feel if we lose the bet."

  
  


"It'll undoubtedly be better than I feel now," Corran muttered, dragging himself toward the door.

  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter Five--Jardine Enters, Stage Righ...

5th Chapter: Jardine Enters, Stage Right

  
  


Luckily for Mirax and company, Iella's cousin Jardine ('it's my stage name') proved game. She was in her early twenties, a blonde (courtesy of an expensive bottle), with the as-ordered eye-popping figure, and a maternal air that sat oddly on her sex-pot appearance. She would, Mirax thought, do nicely.

  
  


"Okay," Iella said. "We have our jealousy inducer. How do we get her and Luke together? Even more interesting, how do we get Luke to take her out? He's shy with women. I should know--I've seen his sister attempt to match-make for him too many times to count."

  
  


Mirax snorted. "Honey, from what I heard from the females techs in the rebellion, Luke isn't *that* shy. Leia just goes about it the wrong way. It comes with being a princess, I guess; she can't help but think of marriage and a formal alliance. It scares him off, and no surprise. He doesn't want get married, he just wants to get laid."

  
  


"And we're going to help him do it?" Iella said. "What's wrong with this picture?"

  
  


"Nothing's wrong with it," Mirax said, "As long as it keeps Corran or my father from winning this damn bet. We'd never hear the end of it." 

  
  


Iella shook her head. "I think we should be more scared of Wedge," she said.

  
  


"Why's that?" Mirax asked.

  
  


"The quiet ones are the more dangerous," Iella said. "Just because he's less noisy than Corran, doesn't mean that his ego isn't just as big, believe me. He does *not* like to lose."

  
  


Mirax grinned. "I believe you," she said. "All the more reason we can't let Corran and Wedge win this bet."

"So how do we introduce Luke and Jardine?"

  
  


"Have Jardine over here in a hour. Luke called yesterday, and said he'd be dropping off a holocube for Corran to study. Jedi stuff. I didn't tell Corran about it; he's out with Wedge, scheming to win the bet, no doubt. Now's our chance."

  
  


Luke, as was his custom, arrived a little early, but Mirax had no trouble detaining him. They were sitting at the table drinking caf and discussing the brilliance, handsomeness, and precocity of little Valin Horn--or at least Mirax was discussing it, while Luke interjected affirmative noises in the appropriate spots---when the door chime rang.

  
  


That was Mirax's cue. She gave Luke a puzzled look. "I wonder who that could be?" she asked. 

  
  


Luke the literal said, "It's Iella, and another woman I don't know."

  
  


That gave Mirax a chill for a minute. She wondered if Luke could read her mind. He gave her a smile, which reassured her, and she went to the door.

  
  


"Iella!" Mirax said, manufacturing astonishment. "What a surprise!"

  
  


Iella played along. "Sorry I didn't call first, Mirax. We were in the area, and I'd just thought I'd check and see if you were home."

  
  


"Sure, come on in," Mirax said, winking at Iella.

  
  


Iella got the message. Mirax had warned her that Luke would use her arrival as an excuse to escape, and indeed, he had risen and was making 'I'll-just-leave' noises.

  
  


"Luke!" Iella said, "Just who I want to see!" 

  
  


Luke, seeing his escape cut off, sank back into his chair. "What can I do for you, Iella?" he said, with an air of polite resignation.

  
  


"When, you know it's Wedge's birthday next month, and I was thinking of giving a surprise party for him----oh, I forgot! Excuse me, Jardine. Luke, let me introduce Jardine; she's my cousin Artel's daughter. You remember Artel, don't you? She used to be one of the Rebel techs on Yavin and Hoth--"

  
  


Mirax sat back and admired Iella's ability to talk endlessly about nothing. Finally, Iella gave both Mirax's and Jardine's feet a nudge, meaning 'pay-attention.'

  
  


"So, Luke, will we see you at the First Reception?" she said, referring to the first of a series of receptions given at the start of a legislative session.

  
  


"Yes," Luke said, not sounding enthused. "I want to get the Academy's budget increased, so I'll have to do a little politicking. Not my thing, I'm afraid. Leia will do most of the talking, but an official appearance by me is required."

  
  


Jardine recognized her cue. "Oh," she said, "I'd just love to attend a First Reception!"

  
  


All three women gave Luke expectant looks, but he didn't respond. Suppressing a sigh, Mirax said, "Well, Luke, are you escorting anyone?"

  
  


Luke looked startled. "Um, no."

  
  


"Well, then, why don't you take Jardine? She'd love to go, wouldn't you, Jardine?"

  
  


"Oh, yes, I would!" Jardine said, fervently.

  
  


Luke recovered his manners. "Yes, of course, if you would like to," he said shyly to Jardine, who gave him a beaming smile. 

  
  


While Jardine and Luke exchanged addresses, Mirax and Iella gave each other 'thumb's up' signs.

  
  


"Luke has really good manners," Iella said, in an undertone. "Did you notice? He only stared at her breasts half the time. I call that classy."

  
  


"Well, in our circle, that's definitely the definition of a gentleman," Mirax said, with a grin. "First part of the mission accomplished." 

  
  


"Will Mara be there?" Iella asked.

  
  


"Sure. I checked that out first. Mara always attends on behalf of Karrde's organization. Fireworks will ensue. Full speed ahead?"

  
  


"Full speed ahead," Iella said, grimly.

  
  



	6. Chapter Six--The Diplomatic Type

6th Chapter: The Diplomatic Type

  
  


"You want me to do *what*?" Chaz Mardan said, turning from the mirror and starring at Corran.

  
  


Wedge and Corran were sitting in Chaz's small flat in the Corellian Embassy, watching him adjust his formal outfit. Chaz was a tall, slender, elegant man, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a sense of humour, and a plenty of charm; he was a prime favorite with the ladies. He would, Wedge thought, do nicely--if they could persuade him.

  
  


"We want you to escort Mara Jade to the First Reception," Corran said.

  
  


"The psychotic redhead?" Chaz said, shaking his head. "Are you kidding? What about her regular?"

  
  


"Her regular?" Corran asked, puzzled.

  
  


"You know the guy. Blonde, skinny, dresses like an undertaker. Owns a lightsaber and has a Sith Lord in his immediate family tree. Just the man you want to get on the wrong side of."

  
  


"Look, Chaz," Corran said, "Luke would never----"

  
  


"Tell me about it," Chaz said, turning back to the mirror and adjusting his collar yet again. "I danced with her once at one of your parties, don't you remember? It wasn't much fun, either. She kept peering over my shoulder and under my elbow, trying to see if The Boyfriend was noticing. In the meantime, he was burning a hole in my back with his eyes. No thanks!"

"She's beautiful--" Corran began.

  
  


"Sure, she's beautiful," Chaz said, combing his hair. "But looks aren't everything, as my old mother used to say, and quite right, too. Too much baggage."

  
  


Wedge, who was glancing at a holomagazine in the corner, looked up and intoned: "Let it be a challenge to you, my son."

  
  


"Challenge my eye," Chaz said. "You must think I'm ultra-shallow, guys. I'm not flattered. And I don't want to occupy the no man's land between the Ravishing Redhead and the Jealous Jedi. I have a feeling that it's a sure road to disaster, and I have my career to think of. I don't need any scandals."

  
  


"Oh, come on, Chaz----" Corran said.

  
  


"Okay, Corran, come clean. Why are you so anxious for this?" Chaz said, sternly.

  
  


Wedge said: "We have a bet riding on it. The money, I need hardly say, doesn't matter."

  
  


Chaz raised his brows. "The money doesn't matter? In what galaxy?"

  
  


Wedge grinned. "The bet's a three-way one. His wife and mine on one end. Talon Karrde and his father-in-law on the other. Whichever team can get Luke and Mara to a successful conclusion first, wins."

  
  


"And a successful conclusion means what?" Chaz asked.

  
  


"Bed," Corran said succinctly.

  
  


Chaz's mouth dropped open. "You mean they're not sleeping together already? Are you kidding me?"

  
  


"Nope, and it's been going on for eight years. Eight very *long* years. Finally, in sheer self-defense, we've decided to do something about it." 

  
  


"What's the problem?" Chaz inquired. 

  
  


"Nobody knows," Corran answered, morosely.

  
  


"We were hoping to motivate Luke by getting you to take Mara out," Wedge said.

  
  


"Motivate him?" Chaz said, shaking his head. "You're not going to motivate him that way. That woman is downright scary. If he's afraid of her, I don't blame him."

  
  


"Well, Luke's got a problem," Wedge pointed out. "He's afraid of her, alright, but he also has the major hots for her."

  
  


"That's a lousy combination," Chaz said sympathetically. "It's also not my problem. Get somebody else."

  
  


"Who could we get better than you?" Corran said ingratiatingly. "You'd make Luke take a stand."

  
  


"Very possibly. I just don't want the stand being made on my head. It's the only one I was issued with; besides which, I'm fond of it."

  
  


"Chaz, you'll be safe as houses--"

  
  


"You're not listening, Corran. I'm not, repeat, not, getting in the middle of it."

  
  


Corran and Wedge exchanged glances. Another approach was obviously necessary, and Corran took it: "Getting old, are we?" he asked solicitously. 

  
  


Chaz stared at him. "Old?" he repeated.

  
  


Corran said sorrowfully, "You *used* to be game for anything. No more, I see."

  
  


Chaz stared at him. "Corran, you must want to win this bet really badly."

  
  


"Well, I do," Corran admitted. "If Booster wins, he'll be crowing over my carcass forever. I can't stand even the thought of it."

  
  


Chaz's eyes widened. "Booster?"

  
  


Corran sighed. "None other."

  
  


Chaz looked at Wedge. "Well, now I understand," he said.

  
  


"Please, Chaz?" Corran was not above wheedling. 

  
  


"On one condition," Chaz said sternly, "Any fall-out, and you promise and hope to die that your grandfather'll hush it up. I want to be ambassador one day."

  
  


"I swear!" Corran said.

  
  


"You're my witness," Chaz said to Wedge, who nodded.

  
  


"Okay, then, I'll do it," Chaz said, resignedly. "Of course, I have a feeling that getting involved at all is a complete mistake; but then, when you start listening to your inner voice, you are, as Corran says, growing up. And I'm way too young for maturity. I'm in."

  
  


That left Mara to deal with. Which was, as Wedge observed to Corran, the tricky part.

  
  


Corran's response was simple: "Then I'll let *you* handle it."

  
  


"Thanks, Brave Famous Pilot."

  
  


"Don't mention it, Peerless Leader. By the way, do you have any ideas?"

  
  


Wedge considered the matter. "I think, under that layer of cynicism, Mara's pretty altruistic. So we ask her for a favour."

  
  


"Altruistic? Mara?" Corran asked sarcastically. "Are we talking about the same person?"

  
  


"Yes, we are. Luke really goes for tough but idealistic women. All his steadies have been like that, haven't you noticed? Mara's idealism isn't too obvious, but it's there. Just watch. She'll bitch mightily, but if we ask her the right way, she'll do it."

  
  


"Do what?"

  
  


"Just follow my lead, Nine. You know how to do that, don't you?"

  
  


"Sure. But if you screw up, you're on your own. I'm the loyal type, you know."

  
  


They located Mara at Karrde's Corsucrant headquarters, where she was supervising the inventory of a recently arrived shipment from Sullust. Her brows rose when she noticed their presence. "Well, if it isn't Terrible Twosome: Rogue One and Rogue Nine," she said. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

  
  


"Hey, Mara," Wedge said, innocently. "You going to the First Reception?" 

  
  


"I always go to the First Reception," Mara said, "And a great big bore it is, too."

  
  


"Karrde going, too?" Corran asked.

  
  


"He's going stag, and so am I," Mara said, not looking up from her lists. "That way I don't have to monitor his behaviour. Which is a relief to both of us."

  
  


"Hey, Mara," Wedge said, "You remember Chaz Mardan?"

  
  


"Vaguely," Mara said, still not looking up. "Friend of Corran's, isn't he?"

  
  


"Friend of both of us," Wedge said. "He has a problem."

  
  


Mara finally glanced up. "That's too bad," she said quellingly. "And if you expect his problem to be solved by me, you're thoroughly mistaken."

  
  


"Now, don't be so hasty," Wedge said. "He needs a high-powered date. For the First Reception."

  
  


"If Chaz is the guy I'm thinking of, he doesn't need any help from me in that department," Mara said.

  
  


"Yeah, but Mara," Wedge said. "He does. Y'see, he recently had a spat with the love of his life. They've been together for years. He's just heard that she's attending the First Reception with another guy. A famous guy. Handsome and rich, into the bargain."

  
  


Corran looked at Wedge with awe. 

  
  


Wedge continued: "Chaz has to go to the First Reception--he's a diplomat, you know."

  
  


"I remember," Mara said neutrally.

  
  


"Well, he can't show up alone, can he? How pathetic is that?"

  
  


"His problem," Mara said, wincing slightly.

  
  


"Come on, Mara. It's such short notice that he can't find a date. So we said we'd ask you."

  
  


"Confident that I'd be available, were you?" Mara said, eyes glittering.

  
  


Wedge was suddenly aware of being on dangerous ground. He beat a quick retreat. "He needs somebody really spectacular. Somebody to make his girlfriend sit up and take notice."

  
  


"So naturally we thought of you," Corran said winningly.

  
  


"You're too kind," Mara said drily.

  
  


"You'll do it?" Wedge asked eagerly.

  
  


"Okay, okay," Mara said, "If you'll just let me finish my work, I'll do it. Anything to shut you two up."

  
  


"Just one thing," Corran said. "Don't wear the dowdy green dress. Wear that black backless number, with the stiletto heels."

  
  


There was an ominous long pause during which Wedge feared all was lost. Then, unexpectedly, Mara laughed. "Well, why not?" she said, looking amused. "Don't want to disappoint the fashion expert here."

  
  


After they left Karrde's headquarters, Corran said," Wedge, you are, without exception, the most shameless son-of-a-bitch ever."

  
  


"I know," Wedge said, happily. "And what about you? 'Wear the black backless number' he says! I thought you'd blown it right there!"

  
  


"Well, I didn't, so there," Corran said. "But when Luke sees Mara with Chaz, there's going to be fireworks. Full speed ahead?"

  
  


"Full speed ahead," Wedge said, grimly.


	7. Chapter Seven--The First Reception

The reviews are much appreciated, folks.

  
  


7th Chapter: The First Reception

  
  


Mirax and Iella were very well-pleased with their strategy. Positively smug, in fact. They were certain that mere men, such as their competition, would never have as a brilliant idea as theirs; they foresaw a long satisfying future which included rubbing in their victory mercilessly.

  
  


Wedge and Corran, meanwhile, were even more pleased with themselves. The women couldn't compete with them, of course, and Booster and Karrde didn't even seem to be trying. Victory was obviously theirs for the taking.

  
  


These happy daydreams lasted until Mara and Chaz made their entrance into the First Reception.

  
  


The First Reception was just underway. It was always held the night before the first legislation session each year, and was attended by politicians, diplomats, the military, and businessmen, as well as VIPs of various stripes. It had started small in one of the old palace reception rooms, but so much business was conducted, and so many people wanted to attend, that it now occupied the grand ballroom, and overflowed to several adjoining rooms. Mirax, Iella, Wedge, and Corran had arrived early to snare a favourably situated table. Booster and Karde had just joined them. Mirax looked up from her first glass of wine and saw a very unwelcome sight. 

"Omigods, Iella!" Mirax exclaimed. "She's wearing the Dress of Doom!"

  
  


The Dress of Doom had acquired its nickname some months earlier. Mara was not much interested in clothes, and favoured the utilitarian in style. For years, she had worn the same dress, a dark green long-sleeved number, to all formal events. Her friends joked about it; but she just shrugged. Eventually, though, her green standby had become positively threadbare. Mara was bored by shopping, and notoriously frugal when it came to personal spending, so when an ambitious young Corsucrant designer offered her a free dress, she had accepted with alacrity. She later admitted to Mirax that she hadn't really looked at the gift too closely, and only when she was getting dressed for the Corsucant Freedom Day Ball did she notice that it was backless. As Mirax remarked later, it was *very* backless; cut down to *there*, in fact. Some women have ugly backs; Mara was not among them. As soon as she made her entrance, every man in the place was staring. At her back. 

  
  


But only one man was courageous enough, or dumb enough, depending upon your viewpoint, to ask Mara and the Dress of Doom to dance. It was, of course, Luke Skywalker, the ever-hopeful Jedi Master. At this point, the problem with the Dress of Doom became manifest. At first, Luke placed his hand high, only to discover that he was groping Mara's naked back. She was not amused by this, and told him, sharply, to move his hand. Hastily, he shifted his hand low enough to stay on the dress proper. A mistake; then he found that he was groping another part of Mara's anatomy. Mara was even less amused by this, and berated him audibly, embarrassing or amusing the onlookers, according to their tastes. Luke, thoroughly flustered, and with no place to put his hand at all, had a simple solution; he whirled around and ran for it, leaving a furious Mara alone on the dance floor. It was typical of their encounters, as Iella pointed out; Luke ended up in the wrong, though there was no right choice to be made.

  
  


The evening had gone downhill from there, and wrapped up with a spectacular public quarrel between Luke and Mara on the subject of the state of the galaxy in general, and Luke's hand placement in particular. The next day, Mara's friends, and a few of her enemies, took up a collection among themselves and with the proceeds commissioned an exact replica of her old green dress. They left it on her doorstep, and hoped they would never see the Dress of Doom again.

  
  


And here she was wearing it. Again.

  
  


Even Mirax had to admit that Chaz and Mara made a very handsome couple. And Mara seemed to be in a particularly good mood; she was laughing at something Chaz had said to her and hanging on his arm.

  
  


Mirax glared at Corran. "What is Mara doing with Chaz?" she said ominously.

  
  


"You'll have to ask them that, won't you?" Corran said.

  
  


"No, I'll ask you, Corran. This isn't an accident, is it?"

  
  


"Okay, so it's no accident. Any more than *that* is."

  
  


"Any more than what is?"

  
  


Corran, looking shell-shocked, gestured with his chin. Mirax turned to look, and felt her stomach drop.

  
  


Luke and Jardine were just making their entrance into the hall. She and Iella had carefully instructed Jardine on how to dress for the Reception. 'Not too sexy' obviously meant something different to her than it had to them. She was wearing a low-cut dark red dress that left very, very little to the imagination. Mirax had never admired Luke's self-control more; they were chatting happily as she clung to his arm, and he was actually managing to look her in the eye as they talked. They made just as striking a couple as Mara and Chaz. 

  
  


Mirax looked to her left. Iella and Wedge were both transfixed, staring. In a low voice, Iella said: "If we crawl under the table, maybe we can get to the side exit before they see each other."

Corran muttered back: "The north exit is closer--"

  
  


Too late.

  
  


Mara turned around and saw Luke and Jardine. Luke saw Mara and the Dress of Doom at the very same instant. They stared at each other, the colour draining from their faces.

  
  


Iella later swore that at that very moment, blue lightening crackled along the walls, and the curtains in the hall started to smoulder.

  
  


There was a very long, very ominous silence. Finally Luke collected himself, tried a smile, and said, "Hello, Mara."

  
  


Mara's eyes were narrow as she assessed Jardine. Her mouth became a straight line. Then, unfortunately, she opened it. 

  
  


"Who's the talent, Skywalker? Do you plan to introduce me?" she snapped.

  
  


Luke was flustered. "Oh," he said to his companion, "This is Mara Jade."

  
  


"I'm Jardine," Jardine said with an ingratiating smile, extending a hand.

  
  


"And I'm shocked and appalled," Mara said, glaring at Jardine's cleavage, and ignoring her hand. "How old *is* this girl, Skywalker? Did you raid a kindergarten, or something?"

  
  


Luke's back stiffened. "I guess she'd be about ten years younger than you, Mara," he snapped.

  
  


This was a ungenerous estimate, and both Luke and Mara knew it. Mara's hands balled into fists.

  
  


"Is that so?" Mara hissed.

  
  


"Yeah, that's so," Luke said loudly.

  
  


They glared at each other, practically nose-to-nose. Chaz, looking intimidated, tugged on Mara's sleeve.

  
  


Luke suddenly noticed him. "Who's this?" he demanded, looking up to meet Chaz's eyes. His fair skin flushed suddenly.

  
  


"Oh," Mara said, with sudden affability, "this is Chaz Mardan. Chaz, meet Luke Skywalker, child molester."

  
  


"That's a low blow, even for you, Mara," Luke said, blue eyes blazing.

  
  


"Pleased to meet you, Master Skywalker," Chaz the ever-poised said, intervening with an attempt to restore civility. He extended a hand over Mara's shoulder. Luke shook it absently, still glaring at Mara.

  
  


"He's a diplomat," Mara said smugly.

  
  


"Opposites attract, obviously," Luke snapped.

  
  


"Tell me about it, Skywalker," Mara said, looking pointedly at Jardine, who stared back at her wide-eyed.

  
  


"Say," Jardine said to Luke, "I didn't know you two were married."

  
  


"We're not married!" Luke exclaimed.

  
  


"Engaged, then?" Jardine asked.

  
  


"No, not that either," Luke said.

  
  


"Why is she pitching a fit, then?" Jardine asked innocently, "She sure *acts* like you're a couple."

  
  


This was so unanswerable that even Mara was silenced. For maybe a whole millisecond. Then she said, very, very slowly: "I--am--not--pitching--a--fit."

  
  


"Lady," said Jardine, "You don't need to get upset. I have a strict rule: I never poach on other people's preserves. It saves trouble. If I had known you had him branded, I'd have never interfered."

  
  


"I don't--"

  
  


"You should keep closer eye on him, though," Jardine said in a motherly tone. "He really is a sweetie, and cute to boot." She gave Luke a sunny smile, and discreet pat on the ass. He blushed bright red.

  
  


"How dare--"

  
  


"Maybe your mother didn't tell you this, so I will," Jardine said to Mara, with the kindly air of teacher instructing a slow seven-year-old, "But men really hate public scenes. It embarrasses them."

  
  


"I'm not--"

  
  


"Men like peace, and they like attention," Jardine said, warming to her theme. "You have to pretend that you find a whole lot of boring things they like interesting. But where's the harm, eh? It makes them happy, right? And then they make *you* happy. Fair's fair. And a good man is hard to find." She winked at Luke, who was still attempting to recover his complexion. 

  
  


Mara was reduced to making infuriated, inarticulate noises.

  
  


"Now here's my advice," Jardine said to her, earnestly. "Can the temper tantrums. They don't help anything, believe me. Shut up, calm down, and give him a kiss. Take him over to the buffet; make sure he has plenty to eat. Then take him home and make sure he gets plenty there, too; you know what I mean, don't you?" She elbowed Mara in the side, and giggled.

  
  


Mara looked like her head was about to explode. Her mouth opened and shut compulsively, but no sound came out.

  
  


"Men need lots of tender loving care, you know, and I think Luke needs more than most," Jardine pronounced, with an air of magisterial wisdom, "Just in case you hadn't noticed."

  
  


Luke was torn between acute embarrassment, and envy of Jardine's ability to render Mara speechless. It was not a talent he had noticed in anyone else, least of all himself.

  
  


Jardine smiled sunnily at the seething Mara. "I think that I'll just go get a drink with this handsome guy," she said, presenting her arm to Chaz, who accepted it with alacrity, "while you two sort it out."

  
  


That left Luke and Mara eye-to-eye. For a short, crazy moment, Luke wondered if Mara was going to shut up, calm down, and give him a kiss. But then she made an inaudible sound, and turned and fled the room, giving Luke a panoramic view of her splendid, naked back. Luke swallowed, turned in the opposite direction, and fled, too.

  
  


The conspirators watched the drama from their table, the younger couples with dismay, Karrde with amusement, and Booster with an almost clinical interest. 

  
  


"Well," said Wedge, sighing,"That went well."

  
  


"Damn!" Mirax swore, between clenched teeth. 

  
  


"Whose idea was *that*?" Booster asked.

  
  


Mirax gave him the Look. The Look that always subdued Corran had no effect whatever on Booster, however. He raised his brows at his daughter.

  
  


"Okay, okay," Mirax said sullenly. "Iella and I set Luke up with Jardine. It was supposed to make Mara jealous."

  
  


Booster gave Corran and Wedge an inquiring look. Corran scowled, but said nothing. Wedge returned Booster's gaze and shrugged. "Alright, Booster. We plead guilty to setting Mara up with Chaz. It was supposed to make Luke jealous."

  
  


"Well, it appears you were both successful in that, at least," Karrde said consolingly.

  
  


"And a fat lot of good it did," Booster said derisively. "Did it ever occur to any of you geniuses that if jealousy actually worked, they've been together years ago, when Callista happened? Or Lando?" He glanced at Karrde and shook his head. "It's no fun at all if your competition are morons." 

  
  


Coran stiffened. "Bold talk, Booster," he said. "But I don't see *you* having any more success."

  
  


Booster gave him a smug smile. "I haven't even tried yet, little man," he said. "I thought I'd let you small fry have a go at it, first. I knew you wouldn't succeed, and I was right, as usual. No imagination! Now stand back, children, and watch a *real* professional operate."

  
  



	8. Chapter 8--And Pirates Are From Pluto; O...

8th Chapter: And Pirates Are From Pluto; or, Booster Takes a Turn

  
  


Two days later, the third team-that is, Booster Terrik and Talon Karrde-discussed strategy in a scruffy tap-café in one of Corsucrant's scruffier galactic hotels. This was Booster's habitual stamping ground. The waiter droids charged over in a body as soon as they sensed his presence. And all of them were needed, Karrde noted, to carry over the minimum amount of refreshments that Booster deemed necessary, not that any of it lasted very long.

  
  


"Given that Mirax believes Mara's afraid of Luke," Karrde said to Booster, as the old pirate munched his way steadily through his meal, "And Corran thinks that Luke's afraid of Mara: do we have a theory? Or not?"

  
  


Booster looked thoughtful. "Maybe they're both afraid-of the Force."

  
  


Karrde grimaced. "Why should they be afraid of the Force?"

  
  


Booster raised his brows. "How would you like to sleep with someone who could read your mind?"

  
  


Karrde drew in his breath. "Point taken. I hadn't thought of that."

  
  


"It's a definite consideration," Booster said. "Gods knows what else happens, either. I once asked Mara if Luke could read her mind. She said no; but she had to keep mental shields up to prevent it. If they got physical, I think she'd have to drop the shields, along with numerous articles of clothing. I don't think dropping the clothing bothers her; but dropping the shields definitely does."

  
  


"Well, doesn't Luke have the same problem?" Karrde asked.

  
  


"Sure," Booster said, "And I bet he's not happy about it, either. But I'm guessing that she thinks that she has more to hide than he does."

  
  


"How likely is that?"

  
  


"Not very likely, actually," Booster said, thinking it over. "But you know something, Karrde? I loved my wife; I really loved her a lot. But I'm not sure I'd have wanted her to know *everything* about me. You'd really have to trust the other person, big time."

  
  


Karrde rubbed his forehead. "Why can't Mara find a nice Forceless guy, then?" he asked plaintively.

  
  


"That's the hard part. I suspect that some telekinetics are like magnets. They're automatically attracted to each other. So you've got a couple who find each other insanely attractive, but who don't have a clue what'll actually happen if they do get together. They might set the place on fire, for all they know."

  
  


"Now there's a happy thought," Karrde said.

  
  


"Sure is. Though because Mara isn't actually a Jedi, I think she finds it scarier than Luke does."

  
  


"So you don't think inducing jealousy will be effective?" Karrde asked.

  
  


"Hasn't been so far, has it?" Booster said. "No, that's a waste of time, with all due respect to Mirax and Wedge. We need to be more direct."

  
  


"Direct?" Karrde said fearfully. Booster's notion of subtlety was to imitate a battering-ram. Karrde was not sure he wanted to witness the old pirate's idea of bluntness.

  
  


Booster gave him an impatient look. "Look, stupid, they're at an impasse. We need to break it."

  
  


"I think that everybody agrees about that, Booster. They just don't know how."

  
  


"I do," Booster said.

  
  


"Want to share the secret of life with me, then?" Karrde looked skeptical.

  
  


"That little blonde at the Reception came closer than anybody else to solving the problem, you know," Booster said, meditatively. "She told Mara straight out, treat him better. I could add to that: quit being so damned possessive if you're not prepared to put out." 

  
  


"And you plan to tell Mara that to her face?" Karrde asked, with an air of polite interest.

  
  


Booster shook his head. "Not unless I have to. You know, she nearly took Jardine's advice at the Reception. If the spat had been less public, maybe she would have. But something is still bugging her, I think. We need to discover what it is."

  
  


Patiently, Karrde said, "And how do we do that, Booster?"

  
  


Booster gave him a ferocious smile. "We just follow our instincts, partner of mine."

  
  


"Follow them where? Straight down the road to hell?"

  
  


"I know you're not stupid, so quit acting like it," Booster said impatiently. "We play it by ear and see what develops. My instincts tells me that Mara has to be made to issue the invitation. Even Luke senses that, on some level; it's why he doesn't force the issue. And before I'm through with them, she will issue it, with a cherry on top, if you'll excuse the expression. And Luke'll accept it. I absolutely guarantee you."

  
  


"You're talking through your hat, Booster," Karrde said frankly. 

  
  


"Watch your Uncle Booster and learn, big shot. We'll start right now. I want you to go and get Mara and bring her here. I'll go collect Luke."

  
  


Karrde didn't expect this to be easy, but getting Mara to come to the tap-café did not prove to be very difficult. She seemed distracted when Karrde asked her out for a drink, but came along readily enough. They hadn't been seated in the tap-café very long when Booster hove into view, quite literally dragging a startled-looking Luke Skywalker along behind him. He plunked Luke into a chair at their table.

  
  


"Hey, Mara, Karrde!," he said. "How ya doin'?" After giving Mara an exaggerated bow, and nodding at Karrde, he trundled off to the bar.

  
  


After a short silence, Karrde said: "Well, Luke? How are you?"

  
  


Luke, with an air of bafflement, said: "Not too bad. Apart from the fact that I've just been kidnaped."

  
  


Karrde smiled in spite of himself: "Surely you exaggerate."

  
  


"I don't think so. I was just walking along, minding my own business, when Booster comes up behind me, grabs me by the collar, and drags me here. He didn't even tell me why."

  
  


"I'm sorry, Luke," Karrde said, trying hard not to laugh. "I invited him for a drink and asked him to round out the party. When you're that big, I guess you lose the art of asking politely."

  
  


"No kidding," Luke said.

  
  


"Though it was pretty funny to see him dragging you along like a dirty shirt, Skywalker," Mara said. "What are your plans if some bad guys actually show up? Gonna dazzle them with your quick reflexes?"

  
  


Luke, not surprisingly, scowled. Oh great, Kardde thought to himself, we're off to a flying start.

  
  


"So where's the bottle blonde, Skywalker?" Mara asked. "Busy tonight?" 

  
  


Luke gave her a tight-lipped smile. "I dunno. Maybe she's out with the dipstick diplomat."

  
  


Mara bristled. Luckily, at this point, Booster came back, armed with drinks and enough bar food to feed a small, non-clone army. He plunked a large Corellian ale in front of Luke, with a hearty, "There you go, sport!"

  
  


Luke glanced up at Booster with trepidation.

  
  


"Go on, go on! Drink up!" Booster said, clapping Luke on the back and nearly knocking him out of his chair. Luke clutched the bar table and gave Karrde and Mara a desperate look.

  
  


Mara took pity on him. "Booster, Luke doesn't drink."

  
  


"Doesn't drink!" Booster roared. "What's this? I know you're not some Core World fop, Luke! What do you mean, doesn't drink?"

  
  


"It's the effect on the Force," Mara explained patiently.

  
  


"Why? Does it inhibit it?" Booster asked, sitting down beside Luke. Luke edged his chair a bit in the opposite direction.

  
  


"It's not that," Luke said. "It can make me lose control of it. Works almost instantaneously. Han got me drunk once on Corellia. I wrecked an entire bar before he could stop me. Took me years to pay it off."

  
  


"Well, how old were you then?" Booster asked.

  
  


Luke considered. "Twenty-three."

  
  


"Well," said Booster, with a hopeful leer, "no doubt you're older and wiser now, eh?" He elbowed Luke, again nearly knocking him off his chair.

  
  


"Um," Luke said.

  
  


"He's famed for his eloquence throughout the galaxy," Mara said acidly.

  
  


Luke scowled again, and absently began to sip his ale. 

  
  


Booster's attention was now caught by the former Emperor's hand. He brightened. 

"So, Mara," he said, as he leaned towards her confidentially, "how old are you now?"

  
  


"Why do you ask?" Mara said frigidly.

  
  


"Well," Booster said, rubbing his lower lip, "you're getting a little long in the tooth, aren't you? Don't you ever plan to get married?"

  
  


"Um," Mara said.

  
  


"I could say the obvious," Luke remarked, "but I won't."

  
  


Mara shot him a venomous glance. "You, pass up a chance to be obvious? I don't believe it!"

  
  


Luke glared back, and took a good swig of his ale. 

  
  


"So why don't Jedi want to get married?" Booster asked innocently. "With the unfortunate exception of my son-in-law, I don't know one who is. Why is that?"

  
  


"I'm not a Jedi, Booster," Mara muttered.

  
  


"But you've got the Force, right?" Booster said. "Same thing. Does it inhibit sexual function, or something?"

  
  


Mara's chin nearly hit the table. Luke, eyes alight, took another defiant swig of his ale.

  
  


Kardde wished a stray lightening bolt would suddenly put him out of his misery. But it didn't, and Booster continued, full tilt for glory.

  
  


"Well, does it?" he asked Mara. "Or does it enhance it? I've often wondered. After all, my daughter must have some logical reason for marrying that sawed-off little runt. Other than lunacy, that is. Why are you making those faces at me?" This to Karrde.

  
  


"I wasn't making faces," Karrde rasped through his cough, "Just thought the ale was a bit strong."

  
  


"Actually, it does enhance it," Luke said loudly. All three of his companions turned to stare at him. He took another swig of his ale. 

  
  


Karrde loved life, but even at the point of the most danger there were some things that couldn't be resisted. At least, he couldn't resist them. So instead of staying quiet, he said, "What do mean, Luke?"

  
  


"Sex," Luke said, even louder. "The Force does enhance it, like crazy."

  
  


"Really? How?" Karrde said, avoiding Mara's eye.

  
  


"It really magnifies everything. You see stars, and how. And you can tell what your partner really wants. No faking necessary."

  
  


Now all three of them were are staring at Luke. "Is that so?" Karrde said faintly. Luke nodded vigorously.

  
  


"So, Luke," Booster said genially, "Ever try it with a Jedi--oh, excuse me, Force-user?"

  
  


Mara glared furiously at Booster, and opened her mouth to deliver her opinion of him. 

  
  


She didn't get the chance. "Nope," Luke said, "Can't say that I have. I wouldn't mind trying it, mind you. Though it'd probably be expensive."

  
  


Karrde was surprised. "Expensive? Why?"

  
  


Luke gave him an owlish look. "Haven't you noticed that all the furniture in my apartment is built-in, or nailed down?"

  
  


"Yeah, so?"

  
  


"Yeah, so, there's a reason for it. When you're telekinetic, more than the earth moves, let me tell you."

  
  


Karrde gave a smothered laugh; Booster hid his grin in his shoulder. Mara looked like smoke would begin coming from her ears any minute. Luke, oblivious, was draining his mug.

  
  


Karrde coughed. "I hadn't realized it was such a--handicap," he said.

  
  


"It isn't, really," Luke said. "In fact, it's absolutely terrific in a lot of ways. You can----"

  
  


"We don't need details, Skywalker," Mara said, sharply.

  
  


"Yes, we do," Booster said, his eyes gleaming. 

  
  


"It really helps with fantasies, too." Luke said. He banged his empty mug on the table to attract the attention of the help. "Hey, waiter!" he called. "Fill 'er up, would you?"

  
  


The waiter-droid whirred over, and gave them all refills. Luke downed half of his in one gulp. 

  
  


Karrde's self-destructive streak came to the fore again, and he asked, "Fantasies?"

  
  


"Yeah," Luke said, wiping his mouth.

  
  


"So what kind of fantasies do you have, Skywalker? I'm dying to know." Mara said sarcastically.

  
  


"Well," Luke said, after giving this question due consideration, "lots of different ones. Though I have to admit, the ones with you in them are my favorites."

  
  


"What?" Mara cried. Karrde cringed at the tone of her voice.

  
  


"I said," Luke repeated patiently, slurring his words only a little, "my fantasies about you are my favorites."

  
  


"So tell us, Luke," Booster said hastily, while Mara goggled at him, "what sort of fantasies does Mara star in?"

  
  


"Well, there's a great one where she's wearing this black lace--"

  
  


At this point, Mara overturned the table, shattering the glasses on the floor. Then she slapped Luke's face violently, knocking him to the ground, and punched both Booster and Karrde in theirs for good measure before storming out of the tap café.

  
  


Luke retched miserably, and bolted for the 'fresher.

  
  


Watching him go, Karrde held his sore jaw and glared at his friend. "Booster!"

  
  


"What?" Booster said, innocently, surveying the ruins of the evening with interest.

  
  


"What was in that mug you gave Luke?"

  
  


"Just some Corellian ale, Karrde. Oh, and maybe a little whiskey."

  
  


Karrde folded his arms. There was a moment of silence. At first, Booster was able to meet Karrde's stare squarely. But after a few minutes, he looked away.

  
  


"Well, okay, maybe a whole lot of whiskey," he admitted.

  
  


"Congratulations. You just managed to estrange them permanently. Not exactly what we were aiming at."

  
  


Booster grinned. "Not at all," he said. "I think we've made a lot of progress."

  
  


"Booster: I think I can say this without fear of contradiction: you're crazy!" Karrde cried.

  
  


"You're the crazy one. Didn't you see Mara's eyes when Luke described the Force's effect on sex? They were like saucers! I think one of her major questions just got answered."

  
  


"Then why is she so angry?" Karrde said, rubbing his jaw for emphasis.

  
  


"All that time wasted, no doubt," Booster said, grinning. "And another question got answered, too, at least indirectly."

  
  


"It did?" Karrde asked.

  
  


"Sure," Booster said, "The question of whether Mara has any feelings, other than possessiveness--she does, in spades."

  
  


"Yeah. I saw. They're just not the right ones," Karrde said ruefully.

  
  


"Not a bit of it, Karrde. Didn't you notice? She *slapped* Luke. She *punched* us. Now, if you ask me, in her case, that's true love."

  
  


"Quoth the expert," Karrde said.

  
  


"Well, I've been married, which is more than you can boast."

  
  


A human waiter came over and whispered in Booster's ear. "They want us to take Luke home," Booster informed Karrde. "Apparently, he's getting a little agitated."

  
  


This was soon seen to be an understatement. Luke was literally bouncing off the walls. After trying to calm him without success, Booster simply picked him up and bore him off over his shoulder. Karrde trailed along behind, hoping he looked like a stranger. 

  
  


It took quite awhile to get to Luke's apartment building, mainly because they had stop three times so Luke could be thoroughly sick. In the lift tube, Luke, still slung over Booster's shoulder, finally spoke: "Karrde?"

  
  


"Yes, Luke?"

  
  


"My face hurts."

  
  


"That's because Mara nailed you." Karrde said. "Don't worry. My face hurts, too."

  
  


"Yeah, I seem to remember her hitting me. Knocked me on my can." A short pause. "What did I do wrong? Do you know?"

  
  


"Nothing terrible," Karrde said soothingly. "You just told her she starred in your sexual fantasies."

  
  


A long silence. "You're kidding me, right?" Luke's voice was pleading. "Please tell me you're kidding me."

  
  


"Sorry. No kidding around."

  
  


"Did I go into detail?" Luke's voice was fearful.

  
  


"You said that your favorite one involved Mara in black lace. She whalloped you before you could say anything more."

  
  


Luke groaned. Booster reached up and patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, Luke," he said soothingly.

  
  


Luke groaned again. "You say *don't worry*?" he cried. "A Force-strong ex-Imperial assassin who hates my guts anyway, and I tell her that I have sexual fantasies about her? And I even go into damn detail? I'm a dead man!"

  
  


"Don't be stupid, Luke," Booster said sharply. "You'll both be okay, if you just do as I say."

  
  


"No offence, Booster," Karrde said, "but given your track record to date, I'm not sure Luke should do *anything* you say."

  
  


Booster snorted. "You trust me, don't you, Luke?" he asked. 

  
  


"Sure," Luke said faintly. "Since you're twice my size, and I'm upside down on your back, I trust you implicitly."

  
  


"Good. You won't regret it."

  
  



	9. Chapter--Fantasy Time

  
  
  
  


9th Chapter: Fantasy Time

  
  


Over breakfast early the next morning----only Booster ate anything, shoveling in vast quantities of food while Karrde gingerly sipped caf--the third team discussed their next move. Or at least, Booster did; Karrde was not in the mood.

  
  


"I don't know why we had to get up this early," he complained. He was hung over, tired and not a little cranky.

  
  


"We have to move fast," Booster said buoyantly. Nobody had ever seen Booster hung over, and he never seemed to tire, Karrde noted sourly. 

  
  


"We don't want to give them any time to think," Booster continued, "Or they might start wondering why we're meddling. And that would be fatal."

  
  


"Maybe they're already wondering," Karrde said.

  
  


"Not yet, they're still concentrating on each other," Booster said. "We've got some breathing room, but not for long. But we don't want to waste any more time. If you're finished," he gave Karrde's half-finished cup of caf a pointed look, "let's go."

  
  


Karrde paid the bill, which, he reflected, seemed to be his role in Booster's campaign. "Go where?" he asked, half running to catch up.

  
  


Booster shook his head. "Don't you pay attention? To Mara's place."

  
  


"Booster, are you crazy?" Karrde said. "Mara will scratch your eyes out."

  
  


"No, she won't, Karrde, but you'll have to play your part. So listen up."

  
  


They arrived at Mara's small flat shortly thereafter, to find the door uncompromisingly locked. She refused to answer a buzz on her monitor. Karrde had Mara's code; but that didn't work either. Booster then resorted to old-fashioned methods. He started pounding on the door.

  
  


After several minutes of this, Mara's voice came over the monitor: "One more slam on my door, Booster Terrik, and you're a dead man. And no, I'm *not* kidding."

  
  


Booster smiled. "Mara, honey, Kessel didn't kill me," he said. "And you're not in the same league, take my word for it."

  
  


"After I'm through with you, Kessel will seem like a rest-cure, I swear."

  
  


"Mara, we want to apologize for last night. Please?"

  
  


"No. Go away."

  
  


"I'll just keep pounding then," Booster said cheerfully. "I'm sure your neighbours are up already."

  
  


The door opened a crack. "Go away!" Mara cried.

  
  


Booster crammed his massive foot into the crack and pried the door open.

The kick that Mara aimed at him would have broken the jaw of a shorter man; it bounced harmlessly off Booster's massive chest. Booster reached out and grabbed the back collar of Mara's robe, lifting her off the ground. She dangled from his massive fist, flailing away harmlessly, a startling stream of profanity issuing from her lips. 

  
  


Booster was admiring. "Congratulations, Mara," he said, grinning. "You know almost as many swear words as I do."

  
  


Mara added a few more for good measure, and tried to kick him again; but he held her out of range.

  
  


"Nice try," Booster said, "But you still don't challenge the champ. Give us a minute, will you? And then you can have all the peace and quiet you want."

  
  


"I don't want to listen to anything you've got to say!" Mara cried.

  
  


"You're going to anyway: I don't want you blaming Luke for last night," Booster said. Mara stopped flailing. "It's wasn't his fault."

  
  


Karrde recognized his cue: "Mara, Booster spiked Luke's ale. With rather a lot of Corellian whiskey."

  
  


Mara, still dangling from Booster's fist, stared at him. "Why?" 

  
  


"I wanted to relax him a bit. He's always so damned serious. Thought it would help. Well, it didn't, but don't you bullyrag him about it."

  
  


Mara stared at him. "Am I such a bully, then?" she asked. 

  
  


"Yes," Booster said frankly.

  
  


To Karrde's horror, tears came to Mara's eyes. She brushed them away violently with the heels of her palms. Booster dropped her instantly; she fell to the ground, rolled and came up with her hold-out blaster at the ready. 

  
  


"Come on, Booster," she said, "You didn't survive Kessel by being sentimental, did you? You must be getting old."

  
  


"So it would seem," Booster agreed, narrow-eyed.

  
  


"You can tell Skywalker for me," Mara said angrily, "that I'm thoroughly disappointed in him. I never pegged him as the type to boast about his sex life in bars. And that's all I'm going to say on the subject."

  
  


She shoved both Booster and Karrde out into the hallway, and with scant ceremony slammed the door.

  
  


Booster looked thoughtfully at Karrde. "Well," he said, "That was interesting."

  
  


"If you say so, Booster," Karrde said patiently, "What now?"

  
  


Booster smiled. "Now we tackle the other end of the equation."

  
  


They arrived at Luke's flat a few minutes later. In this instance, ringing and pounding had no effect at all; no one came to the door. The versatile Booster was not defeated; he simply hacked into the locking systems. 

  
  


"Booster!" Karrde cried. "You'll bring security down on us!"

  
  


"No, I won't. I didn't waste my time on Kessel, you know. I had all the thieves teach me their specialties. No security will ever catch Booster Terrik, I do assure you."

  
  


They found Luke exactly where they had left him; fully clothed and passed out, spread-eagled, on top of his bed. His face was pale green, except for the large purpling bruise where Mara had slapped him. They could not rouse him, except briefly.

  
  


"Make caf," Booster said to Karrde, hoisting Luke onto his back yet again. "As strong as you can. We'll be back in a minute."

  
  


He hauled Luke into the 'fresher. Karrde did as ordered, and noted with some amusement that everything in Luke's flat was indeed built-in or nailed down. 

  
  


Luke left the 'fresher some time later more or less under his own power, though Booster had a hand under his elbow. Booster sat him down at the table, closed his hand around a cup of black caf, and steered it to his mouth. Luke stared at it and then at Booster. 

  
  


"Is there anything in this?" he asked suspiciously.

  
  


"Not before noon, Luke," Booster said calmly. "Drink up."

  
  


Luke swallowed it with difficulty, but his hands stopped trembling.

  
  


"How're you feeling?" Karrde said, sympathetically.

  
  


"Not too bad," Luke said. "But then, Mara hasn't had time to kill me yet."

  
  


"We've already talked to Mara," Booster said, "And we told her exactly what happened. She won't kill you, I promise."

  
  


"But she was mad at me anyway, wasn't she?" Luke said shrewdly. 

  
  


"She was--in the immortal words of Jardine--pitching a fit," Booster said cheerfully. "Yet again. Nothing to get upset about."

  
  


"Easy for you to say," Luke said morosely. "Now things are worse."

  
  


"Luke, you've spent eight years in limbo with this woman. With no prospect at all of any change. Right at the moment, she may be mad at you, but at least you're getting some reaction."

  
  


"Yeah, but having her kill me was not exactly what I had in mind. I kind of hoped she had given up on that idea."

  
  


"You're safe enough, Luke, which may be the problem," Booster said. "You're making progress, but if you want Mara, you may have to take some chances."

  
  


"Chances?" Luke said, rubbing his hand over his bruised face.

  
  


"You never met my wife, did you, Luke?" Booster said. "Mirax's mother? No you didn't: before your time. Wonderful woman. She was smart, beautiful, well-educated. Came from a fancy, well-to-do family. So you ask yourself: how did a woman like that end up with a reprobate smuggler from the slums of Correllia like me?"

  
  


Luke squinted up at him. "I dunno, Booster."

  
  


Booster gave Luke his rancor's razor-sharp grin. "Easy. I convinced her that if she married me, she'd be taking a step up."

  
  


Luke gave Booster a hopeless look. "So how do I do that with Mara? She despises my job, she thinks I'm a jerk and a screw-up. Whenever I'm around her, things go wrong, and I end up looking stupid. Every single time."

  
  


Booster shook his head. "The problem is, you don't know how women think, Luke. It's entirely possible that Mara thinks she's not worthy of you, and has convinced herself that you deserve a pure young Jedi maiden."

  
  


"She sure doesn't give *me* that impression," Luke said dourly. "And I don't want a pure young Jedi maiden, thanks."

  
  


"Of course not," Booster said. "And I didn't say she was logical. Just female."

  
  


Karrde was skeptical. "So what about the scene at the First Reception? Luke *was* with someone else, and she flipped."

  
  


"Ah," said Booster. "With women, there's a big difference between theory and practice. And with Mara, it's even more pronounced."

  
  


Luke rubbed his bruise again, ruefully. "Tell me about it," he said.

  
  


"Well, okay, I will, since you asked," Booster said genially. "Consider this. Men do not have sexual fantasies about pure young Jedi maidens."

  
  


"One of the many reasons I don't want one," Luke muttered. "So what's your point?" 

  
  


"So, you're not making a move, Luke. What does she think? She concludes, not unnaturally, that you only regard her as a sex object. Not good enough for serious attention."

  
  


Luke wasn't following this at all. "You're kidding me."

  
  


"No, I'm not."

  
  


"Well, if I thought she had sexual fantasies about me, Booster," Luke said, "I'd be damned flattered."

  
  


"Yes, but you're a man. Women look at it differently."

  
  


Luke put his hands over his eyes. "Karrde, does this make sense to you?"

  
  


"No it doesn't, actually," Karrde said. "But then Booster always thinks he knows what he's talking about."

  
  


"I do know what I'm talking about, big shot," Booster said, scowling. "Don't listen to him, Luke. What does a bachelor know, anyway?"

  
  


"Gonna hang out your shingle, Booster?" Karrde said tauntingly, " 'Booster Terrik: Advice to the Love-Lorn?'

  
  


Booster refused to be drawn. "Actually," he said affably, " I think 'Advice to the Star-Crossed' sounds classier."

  
  


"Suppose you're right, Booster," Luke said. "So what should I do now? Apologize? Go to Mara and tell her I don't want a young, pure Jedi maiden, I'd rather have her? Why doesn't that sound right?"

  
  


"If that's the best you can do, don't say anything," Booster said, grimacing. "Don't apologize; you did nothing wrong anyway. Let her bring it up, if she wants to talk about it. Because she's got to make the move here. You know that, don't you? You do it, and she'll make you back off."

  
  


"Yeah, I know," Luke said, sounding depressed.

  
  


"Luke, I know what I'm doing," Booster said. "Are you with me?"

  
  


"Take some good advice, Luke," Karrde said. "Say no."

  
  


"That's not the spirit that took down the Death Star," Booster said, "Is it?"

  
  


Luke squared his shoulders suddenly. "No, it isn't," he said. "I'm with you, Booster."

  
  


*****

  
  


Luke had hoped that he wouldn't see Mara again until she had calmed down a bit. Since his luck wasn't running that way, he was naturally not surprised to bump into Mara outside Karrde's office the very next day. Luke's bruise was still very much in evidence; Mara's eyes were no longer swollen. 

  
  


Now's your chance, Luke thought to himself, fighting down panic. You can say something really eloquent. Something poetic. Impress the hell out of her. Make Booster proud. 

  
  


"Um, hi, Mara," Luke heard himself say.

  
  


Mara regarded him with an unreadable expression. "Well, what have we here?" she said. "The Force-strong sex fiend."

  
  


Suddenly Luke felt angry. "In person," snapped.

  
  


There was rather a long silence.

  
  


"So, Skywalker-this fantasy-" Mara said suddenly.

  
  


"What fantasy?" Luke asked, defensively.

  
  


"Don't be coy, farmboy. You know the one I mean. The one you like to gab about in bars."

  
  


"Mara, I was drunk-"

  
  


"Were you ever. And then some. Though I do have to admit," Mara said, "You're cute when you're shitfaced."

  
  


Luke blushed.

  
  


"But that's no excuse," Mara went on. "If I figure in your fantasies, I want to see what you're up to. So play it for me." 

  
  


"Play it for you?" Luke said. "You mean act it out?"

  
  


"Get your mind out of the gutter!" Mara said. "Not that-I mean mentally. From the start, please. No shielding."

  
  


"Mara, please-" Luke said. "I don't think you'd like it."

  
  


"I'll be the judge of that," Mara said, hands on hips. 

  
  


"No you won't," Luke said. "The last time I even mentioned it, you nearly broke my jaw. Not a chance."

  
  


"What if I promise, cross my heart, that I won't hit you?" Mara said."You know you can trust my word."

  
  


"Let's have that promise," Luke said. "Out loud."

  
  


"Your faith in me is really touching," Mara said, rolling her eyes.

  
  


"I'm just interested in keeping body and soul together, if you get my meaning," Luke said.

  
  


"Oh, sure, O Mighty Hero of the Rebellion," Mara said. "Okay, I promise, cross my heart and hope to die, that I won't hit you. So play that fantasy for me."

  
  


Some time later, Karrde and Booster Terrik arrived to find Luke lying on the ground and moaning. 

  
  


"Again!" Karrde said, giving Booster an exasperated look.

  
  


They knelt beside Luke, who was clutching his legs. Getting him into a sitting position, his back against the wall of the corridor, took several minutes.

  
  


"Okay, Luke," Karrde said. "What happened?"

  
  


Luke grimaced. "Mara wanted me to play back that fantasy I yapped about to you in the bar. Mentally."

  
  


Karrde couldn't believe it. "And you did it?"

  
  


"She promised---she promised me she wouldn't hit me," Luke gasped, "And you said I had to take chances."

  
  


Booster sighed. "I didn't say act suicidal, thank you. You know, Luke, I am not only not surprised that you and Mara have had trouble getting together; I'm damned surprised you're not a virgin. Didn't your uncle tell you *anything* about women?"

  
  


"No," Luke wheezed. "We were too busy scrambling for a living."

  
  


"You're enough to give farmers a bad name," Booster said, hoisting Luke onto his back again.

  
  


"She's always been as good as her word before," Luke said.

  
  


"Okay, Lesson Number One on the Care and Feeding of the Feminine Gender," Booster said. "We'll have to begin at the beginning since you obviously know nothing. Never, and I do mean *never* believe a woman when they promise you something. Their ethics are strictly situational, I do assure you. You have to watch what you say at all times."

  
  


"Well, I suppose she kept her promise in the strict sense," Luke admitted. "She didn't hit me; she kicked me."

  
  


Booster was alarmed. "In the family-----?" he asked.

  
  


"No, no," Luke said. "In the shins. Gods, it hurts."

  
  


Booster immediately cheered up. "That's good," he said.

  
  


Karrde was incredulous. "Good?" he asked. "Why? What's good about it?"

  
  


"She obviously didn't want to damage him permanently," Booster said. "I tell you, it's true love."

  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10--Fortune Favours the Bold

10th Chapter: Fortune Favors the Bold

  
  


"Okay, I give up," Karrde said to Booster as they walked down the street, some time later. "It may be, as you say, true love, but at this rate, Mara is going to beat Luke to death before we get them to a denouement."

  
  


"You have a point," Booster said. "It's a pity she's so violent, but I have a theory about that."

  
  


"So why am I surprised?" Karrde said, sighing. "You have a theory about everything."

  
  


"So I do," Booster said, smiling, "And what's more, I'm nearly always right. In this case, I think Luke's been getting enough on the side--just barely--to keep him sane. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure that Mara's not getting any, and hasn't for quite some time. That's one powerfully frustrated woman, my friend. And don't ask me what effect the Force has on her frustration."

  
  


"According to Luke," Karrde said, grinning, "I'd say it has quite a bit."

  
  


"Which is bad news," Booster opined. "She's going to start bubbling the paint off the walls if something's not done."

  
  


"So what do you suggest?" Karrde asked.

  
  


Booster considered for a moment. "I want you to tell both Luke and Mara that I'll be at the tap-café--my local--at seven tonight. I'll expect them both to be there waiting for me. You can take the night off."

  
  


"It's not that I'm not grateful or anything, but why?" 

  
  


"Luke and Mara are going to have a private counseling session. With me," Booster said. He smiled brilliantly at Karrde, who suppressed a shudder.

  
  


"Lucky them," Karrde said under his breath, "Um, Booster, suppose Luke or Mara or both decide they don't want to attend this little session?"

  
  


"Tell them from me," Booster said, "that attendance is mandatory. If they don't show up, I'll hunt them down myself."

  
  


So when Booster arrived at the tap-café that evening, he wasn't terribly surprised to find both Luke and Mara sitting sullenly at a table, refusing to look at each other. Booster took the empty seat.

  
  


Luke looked up briefly. "Hi," he said.

  
  


Mara gave both men a brief glare and then resumed staring at her hands, folded with false modesty in her lap.

  
  


"Hi, Luke, Mara," Booster said carefully. Mara nodded without looking up. Luke gave Booster an exasperated look.

  
  


"Hey, Mara," Booster said with a guileless air, "You mad at me?"

  
  


"You, no," Mara said meaningfully, not looking at Luke.

  
  


"Who then?" Booster asked innocently.

  
  


"A certain Jedi Master is in deep, deep trouble," Mara said ominously, staring at her hands as if she found them fascinating. Luke did not look at her.

  
  


"So what's his big crime, then?" Booster asked, nodding at the waiter to bring drinks. "He's thinks you're hot and wants to jump your bones? Shame on him! Better he thought you were ugly and unattractive, right?"

  
  


Luke turned red, and Mara did look up this time, eyes ablaze. "Does he go around telling this to everybody he meets in bars?" she cried. She leapt to her feet.

  
  


Booster reached out, grabbed Mara's wrists, and prevented her from leaving.

  
  


"You know, Mara," he said, gently, "For somebody with plenty of brains, you certainly can act like an idiot at times."

  
  


"Thanks, Booster," Mara said bitterly. "Guess I am stupid. I want to be loved for something other than my physical attributes."

  
  


"Honey, if physical attributes were all he was interested in, he'd be playing the field instead of mooning after you like a lovesick bantha."

  
  


Both Luke and Mara snorted angrily at this description.

  
  


Booster gave Mara a ferocious smile. "Sit down," he said. "Now." He loomed over her; she looked up at him. She hesitated--but only a moment. She sat down.

  
  


"It's fish-or-cut-bait time, folks," Booster said. "We're going to try a little experiment here. I want you two to hold hands."

  
  


"I won't--" Mara began.

  
  


Standing behind her, Booster cuffed her across the shoulders, lightly, but unmistakably. "Mara, let me tell you something. You *are* going hold hands with Luke. Right now. Because if you don't do as I say, this instant, I may get a little angry."

  
  


Mara looked up at him, again.

  
  


"And just remember," Booster continued urbanely, "You don't really want me to get upset. Because Luke is too much of a gentleman to ever hit a woman, even if she damn well deserves it. I, however, am not. And I'm sure you wouldn't want me to demonstrate my lack of chivalry, would you?" He gave her a glittering smile. 

  
  


Mara looked up at him a third time. Then she put her hands on the table. 

  
  


"Booster," Luke said, still holding his hands in his lap. "I don't think--"

  
  


"And don't think you can argue with me, either," Booster interrupted him. "My blood is up, and I am definitely not in the mood to tolerate any back-talk from either of you. Take her hands, Luke. Right now."

  
  


Luke mimed a shrug at Mara, and took her hands.

  
  


"Well, what do you know, I'm calming down," Booster said. "Now, children, you're going to have a nice long talk with your Uncle Booster. And you are going to be good and obedient, because if you're not, Uncle Booster's blood pressure just might spike. And that would be very, very bad, take Uncle Booster's word for it."

  
  


Luke and Mara didn't answer; they sat obediently if gingerly at the table, like a pair of embarrassed schoolchildren, holding hands. 

  
  


"You two," said Booster, "are getting to be a real pain, you know that? So tonight, we're gonna solve this problem once and for all. Either you two get together, or you decide to move on. Got it?"

  
  


"He can move on any time," Mara muttered. Luke scowled.

  
  


"No, he can't," Booster said. "Because you won't let him. What was that scene at the First Reception about, hey? That nice little blonde had a point. You aren't married, you aren't engaged, you're not a couple. So why the tantrum, Mara? I'm damn interested in hearing the answer. So now you talk."

  
  


Mara dropped her eyes. "It felt like he was cheating on me," she muttered.

  
  


Booster looked at her closely. "Why?"

  
  


"I don't know, Booster! Don't ask! I've been trying to figure it out for years!" She tried to disengage her hands from Luke's, but he held on, staring at her.

  
  


"Okay," Booster said. "Now you," he said to Luke. "I noticed you didn't like the diplomat one little bit. Care to enlighten us about that?"

  
  


"Same thing," Luke said, still staring at Mara. "I didn't know it was mutual, though."

  
  


"Well, well," Booster said. "Uncle Booster is baffled, but hopeful. So tell me, Mara, if that's so, why aren't you two together?"

  
  


Mara began tugging on Luke's hands, but again he wouldn't let go. She looked trapped. Booster put a heavy hand on her shoulder, and she stopped struggling. "Luke's entitled to an answer. So let's hear it."

  
  


"He'd get to read my mind," Mara muttered. "I'd have no secrets."

  
  


There was a short silence. Then Luke said gently, "Well, cheer up, Mara. You'd get to know my childhood nickname. You think that isn't scary to me?"

  
  


Mara didn't return his smile. "I've got worse things than that on my hard drive, Skywalker."

  
  


"Translation: you'd have to trust him," Booster said. "Why is that so hard?"

  
  


"I can't do it," Mara said, desperately.

  
  


Another silence. Then Booster said: "Never figured you as gutless, Mara."

  
  


Mara looked up, angrily. "Are you calling me a coward?"

  
  


"Not a physical coward; but you're an emotional coward, yeah. So here's the bottom line: you've got to take a risk here. It may turn out badly, but at least you won't spend the rest of your life stuck in neutral. You're so worried about *your* independence and *your* privacy, you don't consider him at all. You don't even treat him nicely. That's not fair, Mara, and you know it."

  
  


"I'm not interested in treating him nicely," Mara muttered.

  
  


Booster looked at her and shook his head. "And a truer word was never spoken," he said. He looked at Luke and said, "I never thought I'd say this, Luke, but you're wasting your time in more ways than one. She's hopeless." He stepped away from the table. "There. You can go now. I've said my piece."

  
  


Mara stood up slowly. She looked back at Booster for a few moments; he stared back. "I'm hopeless!" she muttered, angrily. "Thanks a lot--you insult me in every way possible, and *you* say *I'm* hopeless!"

  
  


Booster raised his brows. "Insult? We're trying to arrange a highly advantageous liaison for you, and you're insulted. There's just no pleasing some people."

  
  


"Highly advantageous!" Mara said. "Are you out of your mind?"

  
  


Booster smiled. "Nope," he said.

  
  


Mara sat back down with an angry thump. "What's advantageous about it?" she snapped.

  
  


"Don't mind me," Luke said, "Just keep right on talking."

  
  


Both Booster and Mara made identical 'shut-up' gestures at Luke. He subsided.

  
  


'Well, let me see," Booster said. "Let's start at the beginning. Here's my friend, Luke. About your age. Nice fellow. Single, but willing. You could do a lot worse for yourself. Not bad looking--"

  
  


"A little short--" Mara said, baring her teeth at Luke, knowing this comment would enrage him.

  
  


"According to my information----and believe me, my sources are impeccable, better than Karrde's--the consensus of his former girlfriends and one-night-stands is that he's not short where it counts," Booster said affably.

  
  


Luke instantly turned a brilliant scarlet. Mara, on the other hand, went white. 

  
  


"So, you ask, other than that stirring testimonial, what are his good points?" Booster said, leering cheerfully at Mara, and noting that her eyes had become saucer-like again, "Well, for one, he's very brave---"

  
  


Mara snorted. Luke clenched his teeth, giving her a sidelong glare.

  
  


"How do you get that?" Mara said.

  
  


"Easy," Booster purred. "He actually *wants* to sleep with you."

  
  


"Listen, Booster," Mara said angrily. "I've had my offers!"

  
  


"How many lately?" Booster inquired innocently.

  
  


Mara bit her lip and said nothing. Booster said, "And didn't I see that good-looking diplomat you were with at the First Reception glom on to that cute blonde that came with Luke in double-quick time?"

  
  


Mara looked like she would explode any minute. "Can I help it if Chaz had bad taste?" she spat.

  
  


"That brings me to another of Luke's many advantages," Booster offered smoothly. "He doesn't have bad taste."

  
  


In spite of herself, Mara laughed. Booster grinned. "That's better," he said. "Seriously, Mara. If not Luke, who's it going to be? Most men are too intimidated by you."

  
  


Mara said, narrow-eyed, "If I'm so intimidating, why is he interested, then?"

  
  


"Well, as I said, he's brave. I didn't say he was *bright*. Just brave. Then there's that damned bat-squeak homing signal that you give off in the Force, that only he can hear. Otherwise, that's for you to answer, I think, Luke," Booster said.

  
  


Luke raised his head and for once, looked Mara in the eyes. "I've never been sure," he said, meditatively. "She's not very charming, that's for sure. She's snide. She can't wait to make me look bad. She insults me in public. She's not outgoing."

  
  


"Excuse *me*," Mara said, trying to free her hands yet again and looking fiercely back at him.

  
  


"On the other side of the ledger," Luke said, ignoring her words, but still looking her in the eyes, "She has a lot of courage, she's loyal, she has a sense of humor--of a kind at least, and when things get tough, she gets tougher. Add to that: she's absolutely, positively and without equivocation, the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

  
  


Mara went pale and silent. She stared at Luke. She was now holding his hands tightly.

  
  


"Well, after that exchange of compliments, I have only one thing to add," Booster said after a rather long silence. Neither Luke or Mara answered him. They were still staring at each other, and still gripping each other's hands as if their lives depended upon it.

  
  


"Which is, Booster?" Booster said. "I'll do the asking since you won't. I've got a gift for you, Luke, and one for Mara. I'll give them to you on one condition."

  
  


He still didn't get a response, or even a look. 

  
  


"I want to you open these at the same time," Booster said. "And no shielding through the Force when you do. Agreed?"

  
  


No answer. He snapped his fingers sharply. Luke and Mara both started and finally tore their eyes away from each other and looked up at him. "Agreed?" Booster said loudly.

  
  


"Yes," Luke said faintly. Mara just nodded, her eyes back on Luke. 

  
  


He gave Luke a very small parcel, and Mara a rather larger one. 

  
  


"Put them on your laps," Booster said. "Good. Now: one, two, three. Open them."

  
  


Luke and Mara gazed at their unwrapped gifts for a long minute. They both flushed deeply. Booster was fascinated: he'd never seen the Mara blush before. Then together the two Jedi surged to their feet, staring intently at each other, the table between them. 

  
  


A long minute passed. Then, without taking her eyes from Luke's face, Mara opened her mouth and ran the tip of her tongue, very slowly and very deliberately, along first her upper lip, and then along her lower lip. Forget saucers, Booster thought, Luke's eyes assumed the proportions of dinner-plates at this. He gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. After another long minute of mutual staring, Luke said absently, his eyes still on Mara, "Um, Booster, thank you very much for the gifts. Would you excuse us, please?"

Booster grinned. "No problem at all." 

  
  


Cradling his gift in one hand, Luke grabbed Mara and her gift by the other and set off at a dead run.


	11. Chapter 11--Finally, Brethren

Okay, last chapter. To those who took the time to review the story, many thanks.

  
  


11th Chapter: Finally, Brethren

  
  


"So what was in the parcels?" Karrde asked for the sixth time. They were sitting together at the Second Reception Dinner.

  
  


Booster grinned. "I'm not saying. Not until I'm absolutely sure they were effective."

  
  


"Well," said Kardde, looking around the rest of the table at Wedge and Iella, Mirax and Corran, "they haven't been seen for three whole days."

  
  


"Maybe Mara's murdered him," Corran muttered.

  
  


Mirax gave him A Look. Booster was more to the point. He gave Corran a sharp kick under the table.

  
  


Corran yelped. "Something wrong?" Booster asked solicitously.

  
  


Corran winced, shaking his head. Satisfied that he had put Corran in his place, Booster turned his attention to his seventh drink of the night. As usual, despite his intake, he wasn't the least bit drunk.

  
  


Karrde asked, "Did you get Mara to issue the invitation? You said you could."

  
  


"She issued the invitation, alright," Booster said, grinning. "Not verbally, but she issued it. And Luke didn't make any mistake about it, either. At least, I think he didn't."

  
  


"Well, well, look who's here," Karrde said, looking towards the door.

  
  


It was indeed Luke and Mara, holding hands--voluntarily, no less----and both looking uncharacteristically radiant. When they spotted Booster and his party, identical brilliant smiles illuminated their faces, and they waved enthusiastically.

  
  


"Hmm!" Iella said, grinning, "I do believe I spot a goodly spread of eased hormones. Not to mention enough afterglow to float a Star Cruiser, Executor Class."

  
  


"Yes!" Booster said, shaking hands with Karrde.

  
  


"Well, Booster," Corran said sourly, "you obviously you missed your calling in life. You should've been a pimp."

  
  


"Jealous, are we, little man?" Booster said, very mellow. "Better luck next time. Oh, by the way--pay up. Now."

  
  


"Pay up!" Corran cried. "Just because they're smiling? What actual proof is there that you won?"

  
  


"Well," said Booster, reasonably, "How often have you seen either of them smile before? Especially when they're together?"

  
  


Corran didn't bother to dispute that, but he muttered: "And what about Karrde? Why does he get paid? According to you, you did all the work."

  
  


"Look at him trying to sow dissension in the ranks," said Booster observed to the rest of the table. "Karrde gets paid because of his brilliant choice of partners. Better luck next, Wedge."

  
  


"Thanks, Booster," Wedge said, nudging Corran, "I'll keep it in mind."

  
  


Mirax said, "Okay, 'fess up, Booster. Since a mere man, and my father at that, outsmarted me, I need to know how it was done. What was in those parcels?"

  
  


Booster laughed. "No big secret. The timing had to be impeccable, that's all."

  
  


Wedge said: "Come on, Booster. Don't keep us in suspense."

  
  


Booster grinned. "Luke's parcel contained a key to the deluxe penthouse suite at the Corsucrant Center Plaza Hotel. Conspicuously labeled, I might add."

  
  


Everybody laughed.

  
  


"And Mara's parcel?" Mirax asked.

  
  


"I'm surprised none of you guessed," Booster said, smirking. "A negligee. Very short. Very sheer. Black lace." 

  
  
  
  


THE END.

  
  


?


	12. CHAPTER 28: BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS

Moi: "Ste." is me confusing female and male French saints. It should be "St." I'll change it when I rewrite.

"Hr" as a contraction for "Healer" I didn't invent myself - read it in another fanfic. Makes sense, though.

On the question of whether or not this is a Severitus: it is. The challenge dictates that the trigger occurs on Harry's sixteenth birthday; I intend to spring it a little sooner than that, but not a whole lot. And he's still only 13 to 14 years old. I think the problem some readers have here is that nearly all Severitus stories are just about the Severitus element and nothing else. This is not _only_ a Severitus, as it happens, and that's why they find it so slow. It's merely one feature of the entire story, and not really the major one, either. It shall be as advertised, but not before time. I have, however, slightly amended the header to reflect this.

Thanks very much everyone who reviewed. Tsloggins & Cherry S, those were two wonderful reviews, which I very much appreciated.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: BY THE PRICKING OF MY THUMBS

_Wherein Petunia undertakes a new project and the boys get an invitation._

Sirius, in fact, wrote to her regularly. The first letters were angry and threatening, and after Petunia read a few, she did not open any more, though they arrived nearly every two days. After a few weeks, Hr. Abelard wrote to her and asked her to 'be a friend' (as he put it) to Sirius, and to resume reading his letters, and to answer them. Petunia bit her lip at this presumption, but she started reading them again.

The letters proved a good barometer of Sirius's state of mind, and things were obviously improving; he actually apologized for his behaviour, in a manner that sounded sincere, and to Petunia's pleasure, started writing to Andromeda Tonks and Remus Lupin as well, or so they reported.

But once discussion of the boys and their doings was exhausted, they needed something else to write about, so Sirius eventually hit upon animagus transformation. Sirius was obviously in a manic phase, Petunia thought, because he suddenly decided that she should become an animagus. She protested: she had a lot to do at the manor, and she wasn't good enough at magic to even try something that complex. Sirius scoffed at her. Of course, she could learn it! He had, hadn't he? He would set out the whole process for her! It would be easy as pie! And he was absolutely certain that her animagus form would be a dog, like his. _Well, you've called me a bitch often enough, Sirius, so that would fit._

Sirius recruited Minerva McGonagall to coach Petunia in the technique. Minerva was frankly doubtful. Petunia still had an intermittent problem with sustained magic, and animagus transformation required it, as well as a steady focus. So they worked hard on stabilizing her magic, and gradually Petunia was able to perform simple exercises, and eventually more elaborate ones. Even if she never managed a transformation, Petunia felt the work was definitely improving her basic magical technique, and so she persisted with it.

Sirius was encouraging, and he actually managed to give her some helpful advice. He seemed to enjoy the role of instructor, and proved talented at breaking down complex magic nto manageable sections and then explaining to her how to undertake them in a way she could understand. He often illustrated his letters with absurd cartoons of animagus transformation that she found very funny. Petunia wondered if her efforts to get him hired at Hogwarts as a professor had made more sense than she had thought at the time. She was even more amused when the cartoons he drew showed her turning into a Borzoi. _That he shows me turning into that particular breed of dog is an indication that he thinks I'm fast, skinny and dumb, I suppose._

But very gradually, his letters started in on areas Petunia preferred to avoid. The letters were fairly upbeat, in general, though Sirius tended to sulk when Petunia cut off any discussion of his proposal - he still thought they should get married. Petunia had hoped that treatment might get him to forget that, but unfortunately, he still seemed obsessed with it. She was willing to bet that the obsession was connected with his illness, but suggesting that to him – tactfully – didn't help much. _I hope to God that hospital has a host of sexy nurses, all of them brunette and buxom, or at least something else to distract him. He needs distraction badly. _

She then wrote to Hr. Abelard and suggested – again, tactfully – that he discourage Sirius from the notion. His response infuriated her: Sirius, he said, would have to abandon the project himself, and he didn't want to jeopardize the trust he had built up with his patient by discouraging him in any idiotic project or by doing anything remotely useful. _Alright, I added that last bit myself_.

That was exasperating, but not her only problem. Petunia felt that the troubles with Sirius had disturbed the boys; they had brought back to them the bad memories from the Vernon days. _And not only the boys; I had some roaring nightmares myself there for awhile._ Dudley and Harry seemed restless and anxious, so by way of distraction for them, she took them on a trip to Cornwall to stay at the Mayhew vacation cottage, which was free for two weeks. The weather was warm and sunny, the cottage had a pleasant seaside location, and the boys were able to invite Hermoine Granger, and Ron and Ginny Weasley to visit them there. The holiday went rather well, and it did seem to help them to get away from the wizarding world for a bit.

During their time at the seaside, Ron Weasley mentioned that his father believed that he could get tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, due at the end of August, and scheduled this year to be held in England. He asked Petunia (politely) if she would object if the boys attended with the Weasleys, if the tickets could be obtained. That left Petunia in one of those no-win parenting dilemmas that she hated. If Molly had been going, she wouldn't have hesitated to say yes; but Arthur Weasley was obviously going to be the sole supervisor in this case. Arthur was a pleasant man, rather absent-minded, and almost as bad as Charity Burbage in his fascination with Muggle ways. (Petunia had once given him a Muggle book called "How Things Work", which had been a great success, apparently.) Would Arthur be a successful overseer of his own seven children plus three more in a large exuberant crowd of wizards? Petunia rather doubted it, but she decidedly did not want to say so. Then again there was the accusation that Sirius liked to throw at her: that she was over-controlling with the boys. It sat and festered at the back of her mind, proof positive, she felt, that it must have a good deal of truth in it. _Hell, yes; I know I am. But I don't want the boys to agree with him, and I suspect that they already do._

So her initial response to Ron was light: let's see if your father can get the tickets before we worry about it. And then she worried all that night about what she should say if he _did_ get the tickets. When Petunia made her monthly visit to St. Mungo's, the issue was no longer in doubt. She told the mind-healing team about it, and saw that while Marcella looked exasperated (she, like Petunia, was not really a Quidditch fan), Hector and Titus looked distinctly wistful.

"Aren't you going?" she asked them, surprised.

"We hadn't planned to," Titus said, with a glance at Marcella. Petunia got it without any more words being said; Titus was still doing penance for the trouble over not reporting Sirius to the Aurors, and the necessity of Marcella pulling strings on his behalf. He'd been fined, too, as she recalled. _He must be short of money, and I rather think Hector must have loaned him some, which is why *he* isn't going._

"What if I managed to get tickets? Would you two come with me?" Petunia asked, remembering how good both men had been about helping her during the trouble with Sirius.

"You won't," Hector said. "They're nearly impossible to obtain."

"O, ye of little faith," Petunia said. _If some more adults went on this expedition, I wouldn't be nearly so nervous about it. _

Getting the tickets proved nearly as impossible as Hector predicted; not only that, scalpers seemed to be an unknown concept in the wizarding world. Petunia didn't know anyone in Quidditch circles, either. Eventually, she gave up on conventional means and played her trump card. She summoned Pompey and asked him to get three tickets to the match, if he could.

As it transpired, he could, which surprised her not at all. Petunia felt discretion was in order, and did not ask him where or how he had managed it, but she did pay for the tickets, and they weren't as expensive as she feared they would be. _I should ask him if whatever he did to get the tickets was legal, I suppose; but I won't. I didn't specify how he was to do it, after all – fair's fair, and no retroactive heckling allowed._

Petunia deposited two of the tickets at St. Mungo's for Hector and Titus, and then impulsively asked Molly Weasley if she wanted to use the other one. Molly was surprised by this offer and disclaimed any notion of going to the match. "You go, and you can share a tent with the girls."

Petunia sighed. _Well, here comes the over-controlling parent, boys. The only difference is that you've got your own instead of Ron's. I don't know if that'll make you happy or sad._

The boys were tactful enough to seem happy about it, and it helped, she supposed, that her seats were with Hector and Titus and not the rest of the party. Arthur gave her rather vague instructions on how and when to arrive at the Weasley residence beforehand and how to dress -'as much like a Muggle as possible.' _That at least I do know how to do_, _Arthur_.

Petunia agreed to appear at The Burrow in the very early morning of the day of the match. Once this promise was made, she immediately regretted it: if she got lost, as she was somewhat prone to do, how would she find her way to the correct spot? To her surprise, the boys presented her with a detailed map with a time line, and gave a copy to Pompey as well. When she asked them why, they told her firmly that they thought Pompey should accompany her, and in fact, they had already recruited him to do so. She looked at her senior house elf and gauged that trying to persuade him not to do so was a waste of time. The boys' word was law with him. Never one to fling her cap over a windmill, Petunia accepted this dictate with as much good grace as she could muster, though it rather disturbed her. _Did her own children consider her a complete fool? No, don't answer that question; I suspect they merely think I've got a poor sense of direction, which I can hardly deny.  
_

Pompey had her up in the shiveringly cold pre-dawn morning, and wouldn't even allow her a cup of coffee before he chivvied her down to an apparition point. Petunia didn't enjoy apparition, but she had grown better at it with practice. She had to admit, though, that the fact that Pompey was present as backup was a comfort to her. _I won't admit that to the boys, though, just as they won't admit that they didn't think I'd get there on time and in one piece if they hadn't intervened_.

Petunia and Pompey apparated to the space in front of The Burrow; it wasn't defined well enough to be called a front yard. The home itself looked a bit like the Meccano constructions that the boys used to make when they were younger, though built with much less precision. In fact, Petunia wasn't exactly sure what held it up. There was only one lonely light on in what appeared to be the kitchen. She was immediately hopeful that Molly might produce a cup of coffee for her, but no such luck: Arthur surged out of the house, followed by a crowd of the younger children – the older ones were going to apparate later. Molly cheerfully declined Petunia's last minute plea that she reconsider not going herself, and they were off.

Walking along in the pitch dark wasn't much fun, but as Petunia put it, _Lumos_ was your friend. She took the two girls in the group in tow; though Ginny had the sure-footedness of a small mountain goat, and started to lead the way, Hermoine tended to lag behind. Petunia, too, lost forward momentum on the hills; Pompey had to light the path for her and Hermoine by holding her wand aloft. Petunia had hoped that he would return to the Manor once she was well on her way, but he blandly ignored her broad hints that he do so. It occurred to Petunia that he might want to see the match, and why not, so she stopped suggesting that he go home.

They arrived at the rendezvous point, which proved to be a clearing with a Portkey (in this case, an old boot) in it. Petunia had read and heard about Portkeys, but she hadn't formed a clear notion of how they operated, so this encounter was an education. She initially wrote off the other wizard they met at the Portkey, Amos Diggory, as a garrulous fool, but then chastised herself; just because wizards seemed foolish or eccentric, didn't mean that they couldn't be acutely dangerous under the right circumstances. _It's just hard to take people dressed in plus fours and hip waders too seriously._ Though Arthur himself looked rather strange, he could pass as a Muggle, if a rather oddly dressed one, in a pinch. Some of the other wizards they encountered on their travels didn't even come close.

A number of witches, wizards and their families had already been encamped on the site for up to two weeks, and they had made themselves right at home, Petunia noted. The majority of the tents tried to look authentically Muggle, but a good many of them didn't bother even to try, and she was amused to see their magical embellishments, and the variations in the different nations represented. She had flattered herself that she was learning more and more about wizarding culture, but she now saw that she still knew next to nothing. _However, the reverse is also true, to judge by what this lot deems to be normal Muggle dress and behaviour._

When they arrived at the campsite that Arthur had reserved, Petunia and the children helped him erect the tents and light a fire. She had not been camping herself since she was a child. Her father had been enthusiastic about it; Marigold and Lily had endured it for the sake of the team; and Petunia had frankly enjoyed it. Her father had taught her the basics, and she could light a fire without matches, strain drinking water until it was palatable, set up a tent properly, and cook over a campfire. Her skills in this area had grown rather rusty during years in the suburbs, but by contrast Arthur Weasley could not even light a fire _with_ matches. Petunia showed him how, and ended up cooking breakfast for the entire party. She reflected that she now understood why Molly had not wanted to come along, as she cleared away the pile of dishes.

The tents Arthur had borrowed seemed very small for the number of people they had to house, but once inside the one allocated to the females of the party, Petunia saw that the interiors were very much larger than she expected. _It's magic, and I shouldn't be surprised, should I? _

As the day wore on, and the start of the match drew closer, they began walking to the pitch. Petunia took everything in, aware that she finally had something to write to Sirius about that might actually interest him. The boys were fascinated by the wares of a group of vendors of basically useless trivia, but Petunia had not the heart to prevent them from buying it. They had money from their birthdays to spend, and she supposed that they might as well do as they chose with it.

Petunia was not sitting with the rest of the party, but was relieved to see that though considerably lower down, the seats Pompey had obtained were not very far away from the Top Box. The stadium was truly enormous and seemed full to bursting with exciting and excited people. Hector and Titus were already occupying their seats when she finally found them, both dressed in their best. Petunia felt suddenly abashed by her Muggle appearance. She was wearing new jeans, a cotton top, a cotton-knit jumper and a short raincoat, but she seemed to be decidedly underdressed for the occasion. _I will not display any discomfort over that, dammit. I saw a wizard dressed in a woman's nightgown today, after all; not to mention another one in a poncho and a kilt. Both breezy combinations, those, even for August._

Neither Hector nor Titus seemed to notice her appearance; men didn't, in Petunia's experience. They greeted her and Pompey happily; Petunia took her seat and Pompey sat down cross-legged in front of her.

Contrary to her expectations, Petunia thoroughly enjoyed the pre-match show provided by the two teams, though she had to restrain her seatmates during the Veela's performance. Hector was naturally backing Ireland, and even had a sixth cousin, once removed, on the team; so he was embarrassed that the Veela had switched his allegiance, if only for a short time. Titus turned bright red when he realized his ensorcelment. Petunia was highly amused. The men passed the rest of the time until the start of the match by telling her blood-curdling stories of the foul play in the first World Cup match in 1473. _Luckily, I don't think anybody will let loose a cloud of vampire bats here, if only because Transylvania isn't playing. I'm not so sure about attempted decapitations with broadswords, alas._

Once the match started, even a non-Quidditch fan like Petunia was transfixed by the speed of the game, and the skill of the players, especially the Irish side. The crowd was literally wild with excitement, and in spite of her skepticism, she joined in the cheering when Ireland won the match after a particularly strong game. Hector was absolutely delighted; Titus was amused by his delight, and Petunia was pleased with it. So they joined in some post-match impromptu celebrations, and eventually had a late meal at eatery that operated out of a series of tents just off the pitch. To Petunia's surprise, the food was rather good, and they drank a toast to the Irish victory.

And then gradually, like the hiss of a snake, the mood of the crowd changed. At first it was something that Petunia just vaguely noticed, and then it became more rapid. The flashing lights were no longer fireworks, and there were screams and sobs among the throngs of people. Petunia caught a glimpse of a group of wizards, marching together, a quartet of Muggles suspended in the air above them. They were masked, like pictures she had seen in books of the Klu Klux Klan, and their venom toward the helpless family hanging there made Petunia feel sick.

Suddenly, Hector and Titus seemed intent upon getting Petunia out of the area; they took by the arms and started pulling her away. "Who are they?" she shouted over the din.

Both of them looked grim: "Death Eaters," Titus said. Petunia saw what he said rather than heard it in the increasing cacophony of yells and screams.

They fought their way to the edge of the crowd. Petunia looked around despairingly; she could no longer see the tents. Where were Arthur and the children?

And then she caught sight of something that made her blood run cold in her veins. High in the night sky she saw outlined a green skull swallowing a serpent, the same sign she had seen over her parent's home as it had burnt them and her childhood to ashes all those years ago.


End file.
